


No One Mourns the Wicked

by Sailorhathor



Series: Brokeback Mothman [15]
Category: Miracles (TV), Scream (1996), Scream (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Cutting, Demons, F/M, Fear Play, M/M, Multi, Suicide Attempt, Teen Sex, Teenage Winchesters, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorhathor/pseuds/Sailorhathor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes to the realization that the resemblance between Paul Callan and Billy Loomis is significant to the coming Apocalypse, so he tells SQ about the relationship he had with Billy in 1995 and how he tried to save Billy from his downward spiral into infamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Nightmare on Elm Street

**No One Mourns the Wicked**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural/Scream_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

 **Fandoms:** Miracles/Supernatural/Scream Crossover  
 **Rating:** Adult17+  
 **Word Count:** 55,542 total  
 **Chapters:** 1 of 15 (2,555 words this part)  
 **Summary:** Dean comes to the realization that the resemblance between Paul Callan and Billy Loomis is significant to the coming Apocalypse, so he tells SQ about the relationship he had with Billy in 1995 and how he tried to save Billy from his downward spiral into infamy.  
 **Pairings:** Dean/Billy, Dean/Paul, Dean/Billy/OFC, light Sam/Tatum, Billy/Stu, Party Guests/Other Party Guests (slash, het, het/slash threesomes)  
 **Warnings:** **SOME WARNINGS COULD BE TRIGGERING** Spoilers for all three _Scream_ movies. Anal sex, graphic underage sex (all characters are 16), character death (characters who died in _Scream_ still die in this fic), abduction game/simulated murder (to show signs that Billy would in the future become a murderer, I included a scene where he wants to pretend to kidnap and choke a girl to death while having sex with her (the girl he actually does this with is willing to play)), violence, self-harm, suicide attempt, abortion issues, and a couple sex scenes have dubious consent issues.  
 **Beta Thanks:** Beta'ed by my friend Sammie. Kudos to her for reading and commenting on this whole thing! Harshini also beta'ed the first couple chapters.  
 **Author's Notes:** I stole the last name Macher for an original character of mine in other stories, but she's not supposed to be related to Stu. I have no idea who wrote the Chupacabra song. Some of the names of the party guests come from the actors who played the party guests in the movie. Troy is supposed to be one of the party guests/kids who got expelled in the movie. This story is littered with horror movie/actor quotes/refs and jokes, including the names of all the chapters (thanks to Kaye for helping me come up with movie names). This is a story in a series so there will be references to those past stories. "No One Mourns the Wicked" is also the name of a song from the "Wicked" musical.  
There are some AU elements in the story, including: "Afterschool Special" made it seem like Dean didn't get the Impala until sometime after he was 18, but here, he gets it earlier than that; Bill Harvelle is still alive (Jo's journal from the CW website said he died when she was 8 - I don't think the actual show gave us an age); and a season 4 character is used here in an AU way.  
Written for **Crossbigbang**.

  
 **Chapter 1: A Nightmare on Elm Street**

  
        He could get used to this.

        For the second time in two days, Dean found himself dreaming of sensual food play with Paul. Lying back on the bed, his dark shirt open, Paul murmured words of encouragement as Dean licked the trail of peach juice off his bare chest, working his way up to Paul's neck.

        "Mm... keep going..." Paul said quietly.

        "Wasn't planning on stopping." A rivulet of juice had run down the side of Paul's neck. Dean followed it eagerly, feeling the skin under his tongue tremble. Paul's fingers played through his hair.

        Laughing to himself, Paul said, "You missed a spot," and squeezed a fresh trickle of juice in the hollow of his throat. Dean didn't say a word, just immediately went for it, slurping and licking. They both let out a small moan of need.

        From behind Dean, there came the squeak of a window being raised. Every time that window had been pushed up from the outside, it had made that same noise; Dean recognized the sound instantly. He turned from Paul and looked over his shoulder with a shocked expression.

        It was the window in his bedroom in Woodsboro, California. In fact, the whole room had changed into the room Dean had occupied all to himself for nearly a year, when he was sixteen. Somehow, in dream logic, this transformation wasn't as horrifying to him as who was coming in that window.

        The bottom of the window was four feet off the floor, with Dean's navy blue footlocker centered underneath it. The teenage boy crawled face first through the open window and placed his hands on the footlocker, bracing for balance. His dark brown hair hung in his face.

        Dean heard phantom voices speaking around him. _"Are you entertaining guests tonight, Mr. Winchester?"_

 _A girl's laughter._

 _"Shh! My dad's home."_

        Dean looked down at himself, realizing that his body had also gone back in time, shrinking a few inches to his 16-year-old height and build. His body felt a little less developed, his hair a little longer and styled differently; already Dean wanted to tilt his head to toss the flip of hair to the other side. In seconds, the old habits came back, and his hand went to his head to push his hair back, which had gone a lighter shade of blond. Dean caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall and saw a youthful, fresh face he hadn't seen in a long time, not since the weight of a hundred dangerous hunts had marked it with worry lines. Even if those lines were much lighter than he knew they would eventually be, the difference was still startling.

        How did this happen, that he was sixteen again? Dean watched, bewildered, as the boy coming in the window raised his head.

        He already knew who it was. Only one boy had ever crawled in that window, besides Dean himself.

        Billy Loomis.

        He took in a loud, sharp breath at the sight of Billy's face. It looked like a younger version of Paul's face in every way, except Dean doubted that Paul had ever had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

        Blood ran down Billy's face from the spot where Sidney Prescott had shot him, forming trails on either side of his nose and dripping off his chin. How could he be here now, palms braced on the footlocker that Dean hadn't seen in ten years, when Sidney had put him in the ground almost as many years ago?

        But Billy _was_ here, looking at Dean accusingly. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you leave me there to die?"

        With a shake of his head, Dean stammered, "I didn't know what was going to happen. But I never thought you'd go that far, Billy. If I'd known that was what you had planned..."

        "You should have been there with me, Dean. Not Stu. Loud-mouthed, bumbling Stu." Billy rolled his eyes and sighed. "If you'd been there, I wouldn't be dead now."

        Dean shook his head again in disbelief. "I couldn't have been there at your side, Billy. Not with what you were going to do."

        Billy snickered to himself. "Come off it, Dean. What are you but a killer?"

        "No. Not like that." Swallowing hard, Dean finished, "If I'd been there that night, Billy, _I_ would have been the one to take you out."

        "So apparently, it just depends on _what_ you're killing." Billy grinned with blood-flecked lips, lips Dean had kissed more times than he could count. "I knew for years that I was destined for something great. Only problem is, this wasn't supposed to be it. But I think it was pretty impressive." His eyes twinkled with lethal mischief. "Fame fades, but infamy lasts forever."

        "Wait... what do you mean, this wasn't supposed to be it?"

        Billy grinned again. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Dean? These dreams you've been having about the Apocalypse... I was supposed to be there by _your_ side."

        Stunned, Dean just uttered, "What?"

        "The Inner Circle." Billy motioned with his head toward Paul. "There aren't very many of us left now. But when you see them, you'll know them." He grinned a smile of murder. "The question is, can you get to them before _we_ do."

        "I'll know them when I see them?" Dean repeated. Something compelled him to look behind him, at Paul.

        Now sitting up, Paul stared through Dean with eyes that had gone completely white. Dean could make out the round edges of his irises and pupils, but they were the same color as the whites of his eyes. Despite the overall oddness of seeing Billy crawl in his window with a bullet hole in his head, the sight of Paul's eyes still took Dean by surprise, and he gasped.

        Paul spoke in the slow, mechanical voice he'd used the other morning, when Dean found him sleepwalking around the apartment. The voice of the Forces. The strangest part was that Billy said the words with him.

        "We are all made from the same design," they said.

        Dean awakened, his body jerking in the bed as he took a sharp, startled breath. He felt Paul's head, lying on his shoulder, bobble lightly with the motion of his body. Dean watched him for a moment before carefully extracting his arm, which had been cradling Paul against his chest while they slept. Paul scrunched up his face like he was in pain, made a groaning noise, and settled into the pillow. Dean didn't like how deeply he was sleeping, but there wasn't much he could do about it but let Paul rest.

        When he stepped into the hall, Dean could smell the bacon cooking. He wondered as he stepped into the kitchen if Sam had peeked into Paul's room and seen them in each other's arms. If he had, he didn't show it. "Mornin', Sammy."

        "Hey." Sam used the spatula to push a plate of eggs and bacon toward his brother. "Have some of my breakfast of guilt."

        Although he knew the guilt had nothing to do with him, Dean gladly took the plate and immediately started eating a piece of crispy bacon. "Your guilt is delicious."

        Sam let out a small laugh.

        Sitting at the table, Dean began, "Sammy, you know Paul wouldn't want you to feel guilty about what happened last night. The way it - "

        Sam put up a hand to tell him to stop. "Dean, you know if it had been your pain he took away, you would feel bad. So don't even, okay?"

        "Okay." Dean salted his eggs. "But just so you know, the eggs and bacon were supposed to be for the orphans that Paul takes care of on Thursdays."

        Stopping, Sam dropped the spatula on the stove and looked up at the ceiling. "What?! Are you - " He noticed the grin on Dean's face. "You..." Sam threw an eggshell from the bowl at his brother. "Ha, ha."

        Dean just chuckled. After eating some of his eggs, he said, "You might want to hold off on making Paul's breakfast. He's not up yet. I think he needs to sleep it off."

        "The smell of the bacon didn't wake him up too?"

        "Nah. He's sleeping pretty deeply."

        Sam thought he knew why. "God. Now I feel even more horrible."

        "Don't worry, Sam. He'll be okay." _I hope_ , he added to himself.

        Sam came over to the table with his own plate, piled with eggs and bacon. "Yeah, I guess."

        Knowing there wasn't much else he could do to make his brother stop feeling guilty, Dean did the one thing he could do to try to get him to stop dwelling on it - he changed the subject. "Actually, it wasn't the bacon that woke me up."

        "No? Usually if I wave some fried pork under your nose, you'll sit bolt upright in bed."

        Dean let that one go by without a comeback. "I had another dream, Sam."

        The smile fell from Sam's face. "The Apocalypse again?"

        "Not exactly. It was, ah... it was about Billy Loomis."

        "Billy Loomis? Why - well, we were talking about him the other day," Sam commented with a shrug. "He was on your mind."

        "Yeah, that's true. Still, it was weird. It was almost like it wasn't just a dream." Dean, thinking about it, fell silent for several moments. "Like... Billy himself was trying to send me a message. His ghost."

        Sam considered this before asking, "What did he say?"

        Dean took a second to edit the dream in his head. "Paul was there, and we were... talking... and then Billy came in the window, and the room changed. It became my bedroom in Woodsboro."

        "What room was it before, when you and Paul were... talking?" As soon as Sam said it, he wished he hadn't, but only a little. The brief look of panic on Dean's face made him feel smug and guilty at the same time. He took a moment to wonder how long this game of _'I know more than you think I do'_ was going to go on before either he let Dean off the hook or Dean just admitted what he and Paul were really doing when they were supposed to be 'talking.' "I mean, were you in another room or something?"

        Until Sam had continued, Dean thought maybe he knew more than he was letting on. The way he mimicked Dean's pregnant pause... "No. We were talking here, in Paul's apartment. And... Billy had a bullet hole in his head."

        Sam sucked air in through his teeth. "Ooh, harsh." He knew that Dean agreed with what Sidney Prescott had done to protect herself and the other survivors of Billy's three-day massacre, but that couldn't be an easy thing for Dean to see. Such haunting sights in Dean's dreams had to be a byproduct of the guilt he felt. Resisting an urge to reach out and hug his older brother, Sam repeated, "What did he say?"

        "Well... first Billy said that he actually wanted me by his side when he killed all those people, instead of Stu Macher. I guess he thought because we were a hunting family that I'd have no problem killing innocent people as well." Dean made another one of those thoughtful pauses. "I guess he didn't know me at all."

        "You told him... _what_ we hunt?"

        Absorbed by the emotions swirling through him at the memories, Dean didn't realize what Sam was asking at first, but after a moment, his head snapped abruptly in Sam's direction. "Oh... I never told you that?"

        "No." Shaking his head, he added, "Dean, you haven't really talked about it much at all."

        "Oh. Uh... there came a moment when it just made sense to tell Billy the truth, so I told him that Dad hunted monsters. That monsters were real." Dean shrugged awkwardly.

        Considering his body language, Sam sighed and huffed, "I know you're not telling me everything."

        "Sammy... it's a story for another time. Okay? Stop getting me off the subject." Dean picked up some bacon, giving his hands something to do, and chewed on it. "Anyway, Billy said that originally he was supposed to be by _my_ side, and that it had to do with the Apocalypse and something called the Inner Circle."

        "That phrase was in your last dream. It's significant."

        Dean nodded. "It seems so. He told me that there weren't many of them left, and he was going to get to them before I did."

        "Many of who left? The people in this Inner Circle?"

        "It makes sense, doesn't it? Then... I turned to Paul, and his eyes... they'd gone completely white. I could see the outline of his pupils and the colored part," Dean made circles with his finger in front of his eye, "but the rest was white."

        "Freaky," Sam commented. "Like light was coming out of his eyes?"

        "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good description of what it looked like." Another thoughtful pause. "Paul spoke in that voice that he used when he was sleepwalking the other day, the spookyass, mechanical voice, and he and Billy said together, 'We are all made from the same design.' What do you think of that?"

        "'We are all made from the same design'..." Sam repeated, thinking it over. He didn't want to state the obvious, but it did seem the most logical answer.

        Dean said it instead. "All the members of the Inner Circle look like Paul."

        Nodding, Sam added, "It would explain why Billy and Paul look so much alike." They were both quiet for several seconds, wheels turning in their heads. Sam said what they were both thinking first. "There are more of them out there. These doppelgangers."

        Dean nodded vigorously. "And Billy's going after them. Somehow, they need to be there when the Apocalypse comes. Billy was supposed to be on our side, but he was... he was _turned_."

        "Like Chad Goodwell."

        Dean didn't say anything, just nodded absently as he tried to decide how to handle the situation. "As much as I hate to admit it, we need Keel in on this. He knows a lot about the occult, probably as much as Dad." He started to shovel what was left of his eggs into his mouth. "You stay here and look after Paul. I'm going down to SQ to let Keel know what's going on. He wants to interview me anyway."

        Sam understood most of what his brother had said around mouthfuls of eggs, but he still looked confused. "Shouldn't I go too? It was _my_ vision last night."

        "Let's not give the man too much info at once, okay? I'll talk to him first, and you can fill in the details tonight." Dean chugged a small glass of orange juice. "I'm going to get dressed; you finish your breakfast."

        Although he sighed, Sam could see Dean's point, and stayed right where he was. His brother had a novella of things to talk over with Alva Keel. Things they hoped an older, more experienced adept could sort out.

        Dean peeked his head back into the kitchen. "Oh, one last thing," he said, and then burped, "See ya."


	2. When a Stranger Calls

**Chapter 2: When a Stranger Calls**

 **Chapters:** 2 of 15 (5502 words this part)

  
        "Ah, Mr. Winchester." Sitting at the conference table, Alva peered around Dean's immediate area. "Paul and Samuel are not accompanying you this morning?"

        "Not currently." He took a good whiff of the aroma coming from a back corner of the office. "Is that coffee?" Dean addressed Evie directly. "Can I have a cup?"

        "Your legs broken?" she asked without looking up from the newspaper.

        "You know, I would have been disappointed if you'd just gotten it for me. This little hard-to-get routine we've got going is _exciting_."

        "I'm so glad you're enjoying it."

        Tapping his fingers on the table, Alva watched as Dean headed for the coffee pot. "Where are Paul and your brother?"

        "That's kind of a long story," Dean replied, pouring himself some coffee in one of Evie's wide, colorful mugs. "Sam had another one of his visions last night, and was it ever a doozy. They give him bad headaches. This one was really, really bad, worse than I've ever seen. And, uh... Paul felt sorry for him. So he took the pain away."

        Brow knitted, Alva asked, "What do you mean?"

        "He took Sam's pain onto himself," explained Dean, motioning with the mug in imitation of the pain going from one person to another. "One second, Sam was in pain and Paul was looking at 'im with sympathy in his eyes, and the next, Paul had keeled over in pain. Sam was fine after that. He called Paul a 'fully functioning empath.'"

        Now even Evie was paying attention. "Is Paul alright?"

        "I think so. He was sleeping when I left the apartment."

        "Was he unconscious at any time?" Alva queried with alarm.

        Dean shook his head. "No, just his head hurt. We sent him right off to bed."

        "I'll go over and check on him." Evie stood and retrieved her coat and purse.

        Alva marveled, "Fully functioning... I've heard of it, but I've never seen that type of empathy up close. How did Paul do it?"

        With a shrug, Dean explained, "It was like he... he willed it to happen. Paul said he didn't even know what he was doing; he wanted to take away Sam's pain and next thing he knew, he had."

        "Remarkable..." Alva murmured.

        "Are you coming?" Evie said to him.

        "No, I need to talk to you," Dean protested. "I've got to tell you about Sam's vision, and some other things. Really important stuff. You wanted to interview me anyway."

        "Oh, you're right, I did. Well, Evie..."

        "We can all meet up at dinner, granted Paul's in any condition to go." She dug her keys out of her purse. "Now we'll see if my mother's hangover cure works for empathy headaches. Alva, you call me later, and - " Evie watched as Dean wrapped his lips around the rim of her mug and sipped some coffee out of it. "That's _my_ cup."

        "Took you long enough to notice," he replied with a grin.

        She growled, pretending to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. "I won't get mad, that's what you want. Just delouse it when you're done with it, okay?"

        Dean provocatively licked all around the rim.

        Once Evie had left, Alva absently commented, "I think you and Evie are going to be great friends one day."

        "Hey, I didn't know you could be sarcastic. Good one."

        "Well..." Alva began poking around for his mini-tape recorder, which it turned out had just needed new batteries. "Shall we get to it?"

        "Let's talk somewhere where I can get some decent coffee. I know a sports bar on the other side of the highway. There's a corner booth where all the noise of the main room doesn't really reach you, but the crowd is rowdy enough that no one will hear what we're talking about." Taking another sip, Dean made a face. "Did Evie make this?"

        Alva couldn't help but grin. "It's decaf."

        "Decaf?!" The look on Dean's face spoke volumes for how crazy he found the very idea of decaffeinated coffee. "No wonder. You're going to have to buy me some chicken wings to wash that taste out of my mouth."

        Alva put on his coat. "They won't be serving lunch for another two hours yet."

        "That's okay. With all I've got to tell you, we'll still be there by then."

******

        A pot of coffee and one beer later, the clock struck noon, and Dean's chicken wings were brought to him, while Alva had the soup and sandwich combo. He'd finished the story of Sam's vision and was just getting to what he'd left out of his dream when Alva stopped him with an upraised hand. "Hold on, let me get this down," he said as he took shorthand notes.

        "I'm surprised you've lasted this long without at least going to the bathroom; you helped me finish off that pot of coffee, after all."

        "I'm fine for now," he said.

        "Yeah, well, I'm not." Dean hopped up and sprinted for the men's room.

        When he came back, he counted his chicken wings, and gave Alva a look. Alva only smiled politely at him. "Wing thief."

        "Never mind that. You were saying?"

        "Oh... yeah. There's a detail I left out of my dream yesterday because I didn't want Paul to hear it." Dean pointed to the tape recorder. "You can't let Paul hear this tape. This is really... it's..." He tried to find the words. "It could _destroy_ him, Keel."

        Taking this in, Alva paused, pen still. "I won't let him hear it. Not until he needs to know." He put the machine on record again.

        "I appreciate that. Uh, when we approached Paul's father, at the fountain, he wasn't alone." Not even Dean was eating as he told Alva this explosive truth. "There was a woman at his side. The guiding voice in my dream told me her name was Theresa."

        Swallowing hard in dread, Alva said, "Paul's mother was named Theresa."

        "I know. He told me." Dean wrung a napkin in his hand, not even aware he was doing it. "The framed photo on the wall by Paul's kitchen... the dark-haired woman... that's Theresa. Is it...?"

        Alva, stunned, nodded his head. "The woman in that photo is Theresa Callan. Paul's mother."

        Dean flopped back against the booth as if he'd deflated. "Oh man. This is fucked up."

        Nodding again, Alva agreed. "That it is."

        "So, what? Paul's father knows how to raise the dead?"

        "Either that or she's some kind of look-alike."

        "Shit." They both said nothing for almost ten seconds, contemplating the situation. "So what do we do? Paul's dad is going to use her as some sort of bargaining chip to try to get Paul to turn back."

        "I suppose there isn't much we can do until we learn who Paul's father is and..." Alva seemed to lose his train of thought, eyebrows furrowed, expression confused. "...and what he's capable of."

        Dean watched him. "What?"

        Alva suddenly looked up. "Hm?"

        "Did you just remember something? You seemed distracted."

        Another bewildered pause. Alva heard the licking of flames in the back of his mind, in a space where there used to be critical knowledge. "No. Just hungry, I guess." He started to eat his soup.

        Following his lead, Dean began to devour the chicken wings one by one. "I'll tell you one thing we're going to do and that's build up our forces. If big badass demons like Azazel are in on this, you can bet he's building an army."

        Alva wasn't sure what to make of that. "What forces? There's just the five of us. I suppose we could... hmm."

        "There are more of us, though. That's the next thing I needed to tell you. I had another dream last night."

        "Oh? Well then, tell me about it."

        "I gotta give you some background first. It was about a boy I used to know, when my family lived in Woodsboro, California for just under a year."

        "When was this?"

        "It was 1995. I turned sixteen that year." Dean never knew if people were going to recognize Billy's name or not; he was right when he said he was infamous, but Dean didn't think Billy was quite as infamous as he wanted to be, judging by how many people didn't know who he was until they were told. Still, he tried it. "His name was Billy Loomis."

        Alva's knowledge apparently didn't extend to knowing the names of every psychopathic teenager who went on a killing spree, as he just stared at Dean, expecting to hear more.

        "After the dream I had last night, I'm certain that Billy was supposed to be there to help us when we face the Apocalypse, and I'm also convinced there are more men out there like him. I don't usually believe in things like fate and destiny, but..." He sighed. "...the fact that I knew Billy Loomis and now know Paul, it's just too weird a coincidence. I think there are agents of fate at work here to bring us together. And something is working against those agents to rip us all apart."

        Confused, Alva leaned forward and asked, "Why do you think such things?"

        "Because..." Getting out his wallet, Dean slid his fingers into a seldom-used pocket, withdrawing some old dog-eared photographs he only brought out when he was in a dark fog and wanted to brood over his failures... and remember some good times. He put one of those photographs on the table where Alva could see it, then leaned back, his arm draped over the back of the booth, and waited for the reaction. "...this is Billy."

        His spoon halfway to his mouth, Alva simply dropped it into the soup bowl in amazement, his mouth still open. He snatched up the photo and stared at it. "This... he..." His mouth worked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't yet find the words.

        "Yeah. Exactly."

******

 _January, 1995_

        For the first time in years, the Winchester family had just about emptied one of their storage spaces across the country and were unpacking box after box of belongings, things they could not carry with them in the car. What was more amazing was that they had a place to put all of these things, a _house_. Fifteen-year-old Dean Winchester could barely remember living in a house all his own. He had the members of a particularly slippery Chaos cult to thank for all this.

        His own _room_ , even. And he'd get to spend his sixteenth birthday in this house. A real home. Dean secretly hoped his father wouldn't catch up to that cult for several years to come.

        They'd followed the cultists from Florida all the way to California. Over a year of work that John Winchester wasn't about to throw away without finishing things.

        The only person who wasn't happy about this was Sammy.

        Dean looked over at his little brother now and watched him absently unpacking a box of kitchen items. Sammy still had that sad look on his face, his mind back in Florida where he'd left three or four friends from the Math Club. Soon enough, Dean thought, Sam would settle in and see how much better it was to have a house in California than a rat's nest apartment in Florida. And he'd make new friends. California had to have Math Clubs as well.

        "You boys get a move on," John commanded upon reentering the house. He had brought in a map of Woodsboro and the surrounding cities from the car. "You start school tomorrow morning."

        Sam waited for John to head off toward the master bedroom before he let out a weary sigh. "Another school."

        Spying a box marked 'Kitchen,' Dean picked it up and plopped it down next to the one Sam was unpacking. "At least we know we're going to be here for a while." He dug his fingers under the tape and ripped the top of the box open.

        "Yeah, but we're starting in the middle of the year. And we're not even going to the same school," complained Sam.

        "Go in there and show them how smart you are, geekboy. They'll promote you to high school in a second."

        "Ha ha."

        "Who says I'm kidding?"

        Sam just scoffed, brushing off his brother's attempts to cheer him up. He moved his box to a counter closer to the stove and continued unpacking. "It doesn't work that way."

        "Sure it does. I hear of kids skipping grades all the time." Following him, Dean also moved his box.

        "Yeah, like that wouldn't make me even more of an outcast, to not only be the new kid but the _ubersmart_ new kid."

        Dean rolled his eyes. "You sure are hard to please. Quit your whining, okay? It'll be alright." He gave Sam a playful shove with his shoulder.

        "Shut up." Sam bumped him back.

        "Hey, I know what'll make your panties wet." Dean brought a piece of folded paper out of his back pocket. "While Dad and I were at the store, I found this flyer on a bulletin board. There's going to be a science fair at your school in a few months. Do people actually start getting ready for these things this far ahead of time?"

        Taking the flyer, Sam read it. Despite his desire to stay in his funk and really make their dad sorry, he couldn't help but smile. "First prize is a thousand dollars."

        "Yeah. Pretty cool, huh? I mean, as much as a _science fair_ can be cool."

        Sam just grinned and read the flyer over again. He was already forming his potential project in his head. A model of a DNA strand. Or... an atom.

******

        Dean found it hard to pay enough attention to his chicken wings to eat them before they got cold while recounting how he met Billy Loomis and Stu Macher on his first day at Woodsboro High. Being the new kid had never been as hard for him as it had been for Sammy because he didn't let it get to him, how the kids stared, how they talked behind their hands and giggled when he passed. There were always the girls to make him feel welcome. Their stares were different.

        One of them demonstrated this point in English class when her eyes moved down the curve of his back and gave his butt a mental squeeze. She wanted him to notice. Dean smiled back at her, using all the seductive power of his crystal green eyes. First day and already he had a potential -

        "No man, you're wrong. No one who was on a show like 'Little House on the Prairie' would ever be in a slasher flick," a rather loud boy on the other side of the room was saying, interrupting Dean's thoughts.

        "I'm telling you, Stu, it happened," another boy said back. Dean had heard one of the girls call that guy Randy, and apparently, these two were into horror movies. A subject Dean knew a lot about.

        He glanced around the room. The teacher had made a trip to the A/V office to see what was keeping the television and VCR she'd ordered to show the class a movie about the life of Shakespeare, and the student she'd left in charge wasn't doing a thing to keep the class quiet, as she'd become engrossed in a book about the band Nirvana. Dean moved a little closer to these boys, Stu and Randy. He already knew the answer to what they were arguing about.

        Another boy with dark brown hair was sitting close to them, but not paying much attention to their conversation, or so it seemed. He was drawing something in his spiral notebook.

        "Who?" Stu challenged, putting his foot up on his seat and leaning on his knee.

        "Pamela Roylance. She played Mrs. Carter in the last season."

        "Oh come on, that doesn't even count. The last season sucked."

        "What, did you watch 'Little House,' Stu?" Billy questioned without looking up from his drawing.

        Backpedaling, Stu replied, "Only when I was, like, four. My mom made me."

        "Uh huh."

        Randy pointed and laughed at Stu. Stu smacked his finger hard and laughed back with his mouth wide open and tongue sticking out. "Okay, smart guy, you know so much, what slasher movie was she in? Huh?"

        " _Sorority House Massacre._ "

        "No, it was _Slumber Party Massacre_ ," Dean blurted.

        All three boys looked at him, staring. Stu scoffed at him. "Oh sure, you know better, huh newbie? What was your name? Dean?"

        "Yeah. So?"

        "Well, _Dean_ , if Randy says it was _Sorority House Massacre_ \- "

        "Then he'd be wrong," Billy cut in. He looked at Dean with a small, predatory smirk on his face. "Dean's right, it's _Slumber Party Massacre_."

        Dean didn't like how Stu looked at him, how he spoke to him. He began to run off at the mouth, anything to wipe that superior, sarcastic look off Stu's face. "The guy who played Albert was in _Deadly Friend_ , also. And Melissa Sue Anderson was in _Happy Birthday to Me_."

        "Wow, you know your horror movies." Billy extended a hand to him. "I'm Billy Loomis. This is Randy, and that's Stu."

        Dean grabbed the offered hand in his fist and they both squeezed. "Dean. Dean Winchester."

        Stu blew out through his mouth, causing his lips to vibrate. The action made a sound of obvious scorn. "That's gotta be an alias."

        "No, if I was going to have an alias, I'd pick something like Freddy Krueger." Dean grinned at Billy when he said it; although he'd never choose something so obvious for a fake name, he knew the reference would impress the other boy. And for some reason Dean didn't understand yet, he wanted to impress Billy Loomis.

        Billy grinned back at him, chuckling. "Yeah, nobody would recognize that," he said with sarcasm.

        Dean laughed too.

        His eyes passing from one boy to the other, Stu broke in, trying to get Billy's attention. "I know all the movies. You know I do, Billy. That one just snuck past me."

        "Sure, sure," Randy threw in, rolling his eyes. Stu scowled, hissing, and raised his hand in a claw, imitating a classic movie vampire.

        "Well, maybe we need a refresher course. Horror marathon at my house tonight?"

        "Ohhh YEAH!" Stu slapped Billy's upraised hand.

        "You wanna come, Dean?" asked Billy.

        This caught Dean off guard; it almost startled him. "Uh, maybe. I'll have to ask my dad first." He peered over Billy's shoulder at what he was drawing. "You're really good. What movie is that from?"

        Billy had drawn a naked girl skewered by long tree branches through various parts of her body. Her torso, from just under her ribs to her hips, had been torn away and hollowed out, so nothing was left but her spine. "It's not from any movie. It just came out of my head."

        "That's pretty grotesque, but in a cool way."

        "Thanks. I've got a whole sketch book full of stuff like this, if you ever wanna look at it." Smiling, Billy tore off a corner of the page. "I'll give you my number. Call if you're coming over, okay?"

        Stu didn't say anything, just watched the exchange with a pouty expression.

******

        "Did your father allow you to join them?" Alva was asking, trying to finish his sandwich between his own comments.

        "Yeah. He was kinda surprised that I made friends so fast, but he let me go. Gave me his lecture about not getting too close to anyone in case we had to move again, but he said I could go." Consumed by the memories, Dean wasn't much interested in his food anymore; he just wanted to get this all out. He forced himself to nibble at the chicken wings that were left, knowing he'd be hungry within a couple hours if he didn't. How was he going to tell this story with all the most pertinent details left out? Dean couldn't tell Keel _everything_. Would the man understand how connected Dean felt to Billy Loomis without knowing that they were lovers? "Billy and I were fast friends. Over the next few weeks, we spent a lot of time together, mostly watching horror movies. I watched his favorites and he watched mine. There were a ton that we each knew about that the other hadn't seen, and it was fun springing them on each other." Dean chuckled to himself, remembering.

        "So it was all fun at first."

        "It was all fun for quite a while. But that didn't mean it didn't get weird pretty fast as well."

        "How so?" questioned Alva.

        "Uh... I mentioned to Billy that the 24th was my birthday. The 24th of January." Smirking, Dean let out a small laugh. "He decided to get me a present. And he wasn't the only one."

******

        Although he complained behind John Winchester's back, Sam really did enjoy it when his father drank. Even Dean could tell that his brother was faking the indignance just to keep up a front that he rarely liked anything their father did. That was just Sammy's way of getting what he wanted, or, at least trying to, anyway.

        Bobby Singer had come into town. They said to help with getting John's case off the ground, but Dean knew it was more than that. The two men were currently meandering around the house, more than a little tipsy on rum and Coke, with Sam following after them. John showed off his new house like it was a prize antique gun or the head of a supernatural beast he had just killed.

        "And this, this is the wet bar," John said, spreading out his arm in the general direction of the small bar area off the living room. Several bottles of liquor lined the counter in front of the back wall, reflected in the mirror behind them.

        "Wet bar? Why do they call them that anyway?" Bobby looked the bar over. "It doesn't look wet."

        Both men tittered, hissing through their teeth. Sam had to giggle at how slurred their speech was. This is why he had such a good time when their father drank, especially with Bobby - the alcohol made John funny, affectionate, and generous. If he'd had something to drink after a successful hunt, he'd always come home with great presents, and sing and tell dirty jokes all night. The thing that Sam liked most was that it was one of the only times John didn't act like a gruff drill sergeant.

        Even as an adult, Sam still made cracks about Dad's drinking, but it had never been the way he made it out to be. Dean grinned and shook his head as he looked through John's records, amused at how hard his father and Bobby were laughing at that mediocre joke.

        "You know what else isn't very wet?" asked John. He raised his glass. "The backs of my son's ears!"

        Dean looked up from the records again.

        "Oh?" Bobby acted like he didn't know what John was talking about.

        "Yeah... my eldest is sixteen today. Golly gee, sixteen!"

        Bobby clapped his hands together. "Me oh my, sixteen and never been kissed!"

        Both men slapped Dean on the back and laughed like they'd never heard anything funnier. They shook each of Dean's shoulders until he smiled and laughed too. Puckering his lips at the boy, Bobby commented, "We can fix that right now, though. Come on, princess..." He made kissing sounds.

        Dean swatted at him. "Ew, old man funk! Get off me!"

        John, putting Dean in a headlock, dragged his son up off the floor, taking him over to the wet bar. Dean didn't fight him, but he did smack playfully at any spot he could reach. "Daaaad..."

        Sam began to laugh.

        "It's time we break in this wet bar. And as it is my eldest's birthday, I declare that he must have his first drink!" As one arm was wrapped around Dean's neck and the other hand had a glass in it, John gestured with a free finger. "Oh Sir Bobbith, will you pour my offspring a shot of our best Jack?"

        "Of course, your Majesty!"

        His voice muffled against his father's side, Dean joked, "All that drinking you guys have been doing and that bar ain't broken in yet?"

        Sam watched Bobby try to keep the bottle steady enough to pour a little Jack Daniels into a shot glass, but he wasn't very successful. "Quit movin'," he said to the glass.

        "Why don't you let me do that?" Sam asked.

        "You?! You're just a kid; I can't let you pour Jack Daniels into a shot glass," Bobby slurred incredulously.

        "What, do you think I'm going to miss it? Can't do any worse than you right now."

        "Let the kid pour the drink," Dean said. "I'd like to get out from under my dad's arm before the smell kills me."

        "He's too young to die!" Sam cried.

        "Alright, alright." Handing off the bottle, Bobby saluted him and clapped Sam hard on the shoulder. "Just don't drink any of it."

        To tease him, Sam put the bottle near his lips and pretended to drink. "Glug glug glug." With another giggle, he poured a generous shot and slid the glass in Dean's direction.

        "Okay, Private Dean. Are you ready?" John bellowed.

        "Ready, sir."

        John released him. Dean smoothed down his hair with his hands, then crinkled his nose and fanned it as if reacting to the odor of John's armpit. Holding up the shot, John said, "We hereby christen this not-so-wet bar in the name of evil-fighting, goodie goodie do-gooders everywhere." He handed the shot to Dean. "My son, you are a man."

        Sam added, "Don't choke on it."

        After tapping the shot glass to John's drink and saying, "Tink," Dean placed the glass to his lips and tipped it back until all of the Jack was gone. He put the glass down on the bar hard, uttering, "Ahhh, smooth." Everyone watched him with mischievous looks. A second later, Dean's face crumpled into an expression of distaste and he groaned, "GuuuuAAARRRGH!" sticking out his tongue. "That goes down burny," Dean rasped, thumping his chest with a fist.

        "Wuss," Sam said.

        "Oh yeah? Watch me; this time, I won't gag." He reached for the bottle of Jack.

        John smacked his hand away. "That's enough for you. Come on over here. We got you a present."

        "Oh boy, for me?" Dean rapidly clapped his hands together several times in an over exaggerated, joking manner. His father took him to a wooden box sitting on the coffee table. Half of its top was made of wire mesh. Dean tried to peer inside, but he couldn't see anything.

        Giggling, Sam covered his mouth with his hands. He knew something, but just what it was, Dean couldn't tell.

        John gestured toward the box with his half-empty glass. "Son, now that you're older, and we have this house for an indefinite period of time, we all thought you should have a pet of your very own."

        "A pet? What kind?" It must be something small and furry, to be kept in a wooden box. Aw, he would have wanted a _big_ dog.

        "Well..." John put a hand on his shoulder. "...because of the line of work we are in, Bobby and I were able to trap you a very special pet. A pet no other kid in the world has. At least, as far as we know."

        "Who else would be crazy enough to give their kid one of these?" Bobby brought up a foot and poked at the side of the box with the toe of his shoe. From inside the box came a series of growls and snarls, each one more rabid-sounding than the last.

        His eyes wide, Dean asked, "What is it?"

        "It's a chupacabra," John replied. He spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, as if to speak too loudly would somehow anger the creature.

        "Is that safe?" Dean said. "I didn't even know they really existed."

        "Apparently, they do. This one's a lot tamer than he sounds. Why don't you take him out and let us all pet 'im?"

        Sam tittered again, quickly stifling himself by biting his bottom lip.

        "Uh... if you say it's okay." Dean tentatively lifted the catch on the top of the box and started to open it, intending to reach his hand in and pick up... whatever he'd find in there. He'd never even seen a real chupa -

        That is when the furry ball with the tail leapt out at Dean, thumping squarely in the middle of his chest. He let out a brief, startled scream and pinwheeled his arms before grabbing the thing and tossing it anxiously across the room. Dean was only slightly aware that a flash had gone off somewhere in there; he was too busy trying to get his heart out of his throat and back where it belonged.

        The creature was growling again. Just as he was trying to figure out where the chupacabra had gone, Dean realized that Sammy was holding a camera and everyone was laughing. He spotted the furry ball sitting on the floor near the back door. It was just a toy, and he now saw that the box even had a spring-loaded trap door in the top that would throw the toy at you when you tried to open it. "Oh ha, ha."

        John and Bobby began to sing while they did the Macarena dance side by side. They did the arm motions, arms crossed, then hands behind the head, the whole nine yards. "There's a buggy-eyed creature that they call the chupacabra. Four feet tall like a mutant winged Chihuahua." They spun around, putting their hands on their hips, then back behind their heads while shaking their butts. Sam laughed loudly and doubled over with a hand to his stomach. "In Mexico, Chile, Puerto Rico, Nicaragua. Heeeey chupacabra, aiii-ite!" Chuckling and snickering, John and Bobby leaned on each other.

        "You guys are a riot." Even Dean couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. They really were a couple of cut-ups when they'd been drinking.

        Holding up the camera, Sam assured him, "I got a real good picture of your face when you screamed," and then ran when Dean swatted at him. Sam picked up the "chupacabra" and shook it. The toy made a growling sound.

        Rolling his eyes, Dean couldn't believe that ridiculous thing had fooled him. A ball of fur with a box in it that made fake snarling sounds? "I'm so smooth," he sighed.

        "Seriously, Dean, that's not your present. Your present is outside." John topped off his announcement with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

        "Outside?" A smile spread across Dean's face.

        A new black truck sat in the driveway.

        Both Dean and Sam goggled at it. Not even Sam knew about this gift. "Oh Dad, a truck! It's beautiful!"

        "Isn't it, though? I thought so too when I bought it for myself." John waited long enough for Dean's glare to turn from shock and disappointment to bewilderment. "The truck's not yours. You get the Impala." And he tossed Dean the keys.

        It took Dean a second to realize that his dad was serious. He stared at the keys in his hand like they may evaporate. "Really?"

        John nodded.

        "Oh, Dad!" Without a second thought, Dean hugged him around the neck. "Thank you! I've always wanted the Impala!"

        John patted his back when he hugged him. "You're welcome, son."

        Excited, Sam jumped up and down. "Dad, can Dean and I take a ride around the block?"

        "Yeah. Just come right back so we can cut the cake."

        "Who said I wanted to take you for a ride?" Dean asked his brother, tweaking his ear. He turned to John. "After we have cake, can I take the car over to Billy's and show him?"

        "He's seen it before."

        "Yeah, but it wasn't mine then. Besides, he knows it's my birthday and he said he might have a party." Hopping on his heels a little, Dean said, "Come on, Dad..."

        "Alright, but be careful. Just because I made you that license doesn't mean you should invite the police to stop you and look at it." John smacked playfully at Dean's head, flipping the part in his hair from one side to the other.

        "Who's Billy?" asked Bobby.

        "Dean's new friend."

        Bobby also made a target out of Dean's hair, ruffling it as Dean tried to swat him away. "Awww, Princess, have you got a friend?"

        "Dean, pleeeeease take me for a ride around the block," Sam begged. "Please, please, please?"

        "Alright, geez."

        As the boys were pulling out of the driveway, John and Bobby, their arms around each other, serenaded Dean, more than comfortably off key. "Happy birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey, and you smell like one too!"

 _All of "Billy's drawings" are concept art from **Scream**._


	3. Happy Birthday to Me

**Chapter 3: Happy Birthday to Me**

 **Chapters:** 3 of 15 (3,841 words this part)

  
        Alva chuckled through the whole story. "Your father sounds like a real character."

        Taking a second to think about that, Dean cleared his throat and said, "Uh, sometimes." Try not often. Very infrequently. "But, we didn't come here for those kinds of stories, huh? I'm sorry, I got off topic."

        "It's alright." Alva smiled. "When you bring up old memories, some of them are bound to overcome you, and demand for their stories to be told."

        "Yeah... well, it was my sixteenth birthday. Lots of good memories." The whimsical smile remained on Dean's face as he continued. "Anyway, there is a reason I started this story. Billy's party. When you hear more about it, you'll understand how it relates to Billy's overall character.

        "It was at this party that I realized just how much power he could exert over people. Through his charm, and the extreme promises he made. Billy knew how to get at the heart of a person and exploit their weaknesses. He knew what they wanted in their..." His eyes far off, Dean wet his lips. "...their darkest desires."

******

        Dean had managed to ditch his little brother shortly before he drove over to Billy's house. He knew Sammy would have loved to come along, but this wasn't some pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey little kid's soiree; it was a teenager's party.

        Billy's mother answered the door. She was a rather rotund, overzealous woman who tried too hard to be hip, her son's best friend and buddies with everyone he brought home. "Well, Dean! Billy will be so happy you could make it. Isn't it your birthday?"

        Dean didn't exactly dislike the woman. He just thought she was a bit weird, and sometimes annoyingly clingy. What would she be doing with her life if she didn't have her son to fawn over? "Yes ma'am."

        "And how many birthday spankings do you get today, Dean?" Mrs. Loomis laughed.

        Oh, God... "Uh, sixteen."

        "Sixteen!" She turned to Billy as he came over to rescue his friend. "Billy, did you know that Dean is sixteen today?"

        "Yeah Mom, of course." Rolling his eyes, Billy grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him past his mother. She grinned at the boys like a Barbie doll.

        "What a great milestone that is. I remember my sixteenth birthday. My parents gave me a fancy makeup kit and a vanity with these big bows tied around the legs," Mrs. Loomis recalled dreamily.

        "Oh!" Dean stopped, pulling Billy a step back. "Guess what my dad gave me?"

        "A vanity with bows tied to the legs?" asked Billy with a smirk.

        "No, wiseguy. He gave me the Impala!"

        "Stellar, man!" Billy slap-grabbed Dean's hand and gave him a one-armed hug. "Congrats on the awesome wheels!"

        "Oh, that's great," Mrs. Loomis added. She tapped Dean's arm with her closed fist, grinning.

        For a brief moment, Dean felt sorry for her. The woman was so desperate to be her son's friend in an effort to be a part of his life that she had no idea how irritating and intrusive her presence could be. The last thing most teenagers wanted was their mom hanging around at their party.

        Dean could hear other kids in the house, lots of them, their laughter coming from the room beyond the foyer. "I'd ask you to come outside and take a look at _my_ car, but it sounds like you're entertaining guests," he joked.

        "Yes," Mrs. Loomis began, "I've got a full house tonight." She pinched Dean's cheek between her thumb and first finger. "So many good-looking boys," she laughed.

        Dean politely chuckled, but it was an insincere gesture. Catching his eye, Billy gave him a look that spoke for how fed up he was with his mother trying to be one of the gang. "Uh, Mom..." Billy put an arm around her shoulder. "Could you make us all some sandwiches?"

        Dean backed him up. "Yeah, Mrs. Loomis, I'm awful hungry." He rubbed his stomach. "All I've had since lunch is a piece of cake."

        "Your dad didn't feed you dinner?" Her tone sympathetic, Dean knew he already had Mrs. Loomis in that kitchen, slaving away.

        "Well, you know how men can be."

        "Ohhh... you've got that bachelor pad over there with only your dad, huh?" She patted Dean's cheek.

        "Dad and Sammy."

        "His little brother," clarified Billy.

        "That's too bad. Well, I'll just have to send some sandwiches home with you for Sammy, then." Smiling sadly, Mrs. Loomis looked into Dean's charming eyes and patted his cheek again.

        "We'd appreciate that, Mrs. Loomis."

        "It's no problem. We have plenty to spare."

        Once she was in the kitchen and safely out of earshot, Dean and Billy broke out in boyish giggles. "I thought she'd _never_ leave," Billy said. He slapped Dean's upraised hand. "Snowed her good. Thanks for the help."

        "No problem."

        "She didn't even say anything about the alcohol on your breath."

        Dean ducked his head and smiled, slightly embarrassed that he'd been caught. "My dad let me have a shot of Jack for my birthday." He looked up, catching Billy's eye with a charming grin. "You wanna go for a ride in _my_ car?"

        "Later, man. I got a room full of guests in there."

        "Oh, yeah. What are we up to?"

        Putting an arm around Dean's shoulders, Billy walked him into the living room. "Fight Club," he said with a wolfish smile. "Best book ever."

        "Fight Club?" When they rounded the corner, Dean saw what he meant. Most of the kids had formed a semi-circle around Stu and another boy wrestling on the floor, trying to pin each other. The kids were cheering and jumping up and down, almost every one with some kind of alcoholic drink in their hand, a ratio of about three boys for every girl. Dean had been here enough times to know that Mrs. Loomis didn't mind if her son and his friends drank in her house, giving the throw-away excuse that she'd rather they do it at home than go out drinking somewhere else and possibly drive drunk, but it still surprised him to see so many kids standing around with beers and wine coolers in their hands with an adult right in the next room. "What are they doing?"

        Billy gestured toward Stu and the boy on the floor. "Whoever wins will fight me next."

        "Oh..." He wanted to say how it seemed a little gay to be rolling around on the floor with another guy, but it probably wasn't a good idea. Besides, he and Sam sometimes still play-wrestled, so maybe it wasn't so weird.

        Two girls standing nearby grinned and waved. "Hey Billy, who's your friend?"

        "You haven't met Dean yet, have you?"

        "No." They shook their heads, smiling flirtatiously and trying to catch Dean's eye.

        "Girls, this is Dean. Dean, that's Aurora and Angela."

        "Hi," they said, one of them running a finger along Dean's wrist, just above the leather cord bracelet he was wearing. Her version of a handshake, he surmised.

        "Hey," Dean replied. Had he really been here nearly three weeks and not bedded even one of the lovely local lasses? Well, that would have to change tonight. It'd be a great way to cap off his birthday.

        Billy introduced a few more of the party guests. "That's Curtis, Justin, Steve, Casey, Tatum, you already know Randy, and on the floor currently getting his ass kicked is Troy."

        Everyone waved or raised a bottle to greet Dean. A grunted, "Fuck you," came from the boy under Stu on the floor.

        Billy just laughed. "Uh oh, hold on, Dean." He got down to check how far Troy's shoulders were off the ground.

        Stu swung his leg over and sat on Troy's chest. "I'm all out of bubblegum!" he cried, and shoved Troy down hard, holding him there. The boy struggled, but Stu successfully pinned him long enough for Billy to slap his hand against the floor three times, counting him out. At least half the group cheered for Stu's victory.

        "Woooo," Dean said in a bored tone, circling his index finger in the air.

        Stu walked around the edge of the group with his arms up in a victory lap. On his way by Dean, he grabbed the circling finger and bent it back enough to hurt. Dean held back a wince, opting instead to stare him down with a steely gaze. Stu hissed at him before sauntering off toward the girls.

        After Billy had helped him up, Troy came over to Dean with a shake of his head. "Easy come, easy go. You're Dean?"

        "Yeah. Dean Winchester."

        "Winchester, huh? I'm Troy Gregson. I think we have Chemistry together."

        "Probably. I've only been a few times."

        Troy chuckled.

        Dean and Troy conversed on mundane subjects while Stu and Billy prepared to fight. Where Dean was from, how he liked the school so far, did he like the California weather? As the minutes ticked by, Dean found more of his attention being taken up with the impending wrestling game.

        Billy was messing with the CD player. After he pushed the play button, he turned back to the group with a wicked smirk on his face. Dean recognized the song; it was Iron Maiden's "Losfer Words," an instrumental. Good fighting music. So Billy liked to put on a show. He sauntered into the center of the "ring," eyeing Stu as he did the same. The crowd of kids began to cheer for whichever boy each of them preferred. As the music swelled, even Dean found himself bouncing on his feet, anxious to fight too.

        "Yeah, Billy! Destroy 'im!" he yelled.

        A growl in Billy's throat turned into a war cry, and the fight was on.

        As Dean watched the two throw punches and wrestle for dominance, he felt something he never expected to feel, and so did not recognize it for what it was. All he knew was he didn't like seeing Billy and Stu touch each other like that, that it made his stomach knot up and his fists ball angrily at his sides. What he did understand was that Billy was going to win this fight because Stu didn't have the intention of beating him; his movements against Billy were hesitant and playful, just for show. Dean had enough training in hand-to-hand combat to know when someone was throwing a fight. What he had to wonder was why. Why would Stu show such obedience in a friendly brawl?

        Just as Dean thought, Billy pinned Stu easily after only two minutes. The kids cheered and patted him on the back while Stu grinned it off as a fluke. "I'll get you next time," he told Billy, pointing at him dramatically.

        Billy gave him a dubious look. "Sure you will. Now..." He turned to the crowd and loudly clapped his hands together. "...who's next?"

        "Dean!" Troy called, and shoved Dean forward. Dean started to give him a dirty look until he realized all the kids were cheering for him.

        "New boy! New boy! New boy!" they chanted.

        Feeling a little awkward, he looked around, catching Billy's eye. Billy was grinning at him from ear to ear, a bit wolfishly. "It's Dean, actually. Remember?" Dean replied. His confidence came back and he adopted an arrogant stance, arms crossed.

        Billy seemed to relish the very thought of this fight. "How sweet, fresh meat," he said.

        Someone started the song over. As the music began again, Billy charged at Dean.

        The kids momentarily fell into a stunned hush when Dean simply moved to one side with the grace of a cat, Billy stumbling past him. Billy turned, grinning, as the crowd began to cheer again. He ran at Dean and swung, but Dean just leaned back out of his range, waited for Billy to come close enough, and punched him in the gut.

        "Oof!" Billy cried.

        The kids howled, "Oooooooh!" in surprise and delight. Now _this_ was a fight!

        Holding his stomach, Billy looked at Dean with the most predatory smile he'd ever seen. Billy _liked_ this? Something about this game excited him, and the fact that Dean could really fight made it even more appealing.

        With that bellowing war cry, Billy ran at Dean again, swinging wildly. Dean ducked and weaved away from every blow; it was an amazing spectacle to the other kids. Their cheers grew in volume and awe, especially over how effortless his actions seemed. Finally, Billy brought his fist up, but only halfway. Dean ducked from this blow only to lean into the real punch from Billy's other fist. It connected with Dean's lip.

        The kids cheered and jumped around wildly. "Yeah, that's the way!" Stu yelled.

        Dean wiped at his lip with the back of his hand. It was bleeding a little. He and Billy grinned at each other. "Good one," Dean complimented him, and readied himself for another go-round.

        When Mrs. Loomis came back into the living room with a tray of sandwiches, Billy and Dean were fighting for ground on the floor. "Oh my, but they're fighting hard!" she exclaimed.

        "Thanks Mrs. Loomis!" several kids said as they grabbed handfuls of sandwiches.

        "Now, now, leave some for Billy and Dean."

        Although Billy didn't have Dean's technique, he had to admit that Billy could fight pretty well. Obviously, he'd been practicing. They moved sinuously across the floor like two wrestling snakes, grunting and rolling over one another. In a mighty effort to pin Dean, Billy pushed him over, the veins standing out on his arms, and held him down with a bellow of effort. Troy got down on the ground, ready to count Dean out. He slapped the floor once, but Dean stunned everyone when he brought his legs up, hooked them around Billy's shoulders, and shoved him over on his back. Billy cried out in surprise. Dean rolled over on top of him, bringing Billy's knees up, and held him there for the three count. At the last second, Billy squirmed one leg out, but Dean still had an elbow hooked around his other knee and managed to pin him successfully. The kids went wild.

        Stu covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe it."

        A few kids threw lunch meat into the middle of the ring. Dean, laughing, opened his mouth as if to catch his prize for winning the fight. As an afterthought, he let Billy go. Billy wriggled away from him and lay there, trying to catch his breath. They looked at each other and grinned like idiots.

        "Good job," Billy said, holding up a hand.

        Standing up, Dean reached down and slap-grabbed the offered hand, helping Billy up. Dean took his victory lap around the semi-circle; the kids clapped him on the back.

        "New kid! New kid! New kid!" they chanted.

        Mrs. Loomis gasped when Dean came her way. "Oh, your lip is bleeding..." She licked the edge of her apron and swiped at the corner of Dean's mouth with it.

        "I'm alright, Mrs. Loomis." He tried to bat away her attention.

        "Billy, did you do that?"

        "It's just a part of the game, Mom," Billy protested. "Remember what Stu did to Randy last week?"

        "Still..." She placed the tray on a nearby table and put her arm around Billy's shoulders. "I have to admit, I'm a bit impressed. You decked a big boy like Dean?" Mrs. Loomis reached out and gave Dean's upper arm a squeeze. He flinched in surprise. "He might've won, but my boy put up a good fight, huh?" she laughed.

        Rolling his eyes, Billy said, "Moooooom..." But it was obvious by the chuckle in his voice that he sometimes liked it when she fawned over him.

        "You know it, Mrs. Loomis," Dean said, winking.

        She held up the tray. "Sandwich? This one's ham, and that one's turkey, you're favorite, Billy."

        He took the offered food. "Thanks, Mom." Billy hugged her and kissed her cheek.

        The kiss made her smile fondly. "You're welcome, honey. Now, before you leave, Dean, make sure you get my care package from the kitchen. Enough sandwiches for you, your dad, and little Sammy."

        Dean, rubbing his stomach, made an, "Mmm!" sound. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Loomis."

*****

        Shortly after, Mrs. Loomis went up to bed with orders for the kids to "keep it down" and a conspiratorial wink. Dean wondered how many of the other parents knew what little supervision there really was at Billy's parties.

        Troy and Steve stood against one wall, whispering and sipping at Black Cherry wine coolers, obviously plotting something with the girls now that the parental roadblock had gone to bed. Stu grabbed Randy around the neck. "Slasher movie in the den. You comin' Billy?"

        "No, I think I'm going to the rumpus room. Remember what we talked about?"

        Stu looked at Dean, then Billy again. "Oh, yeah." He seemed disappointed, but headed for the den just the same.

        "Hey, I wanna watch!" Tatum said, and followed after them.

        Turning to Billy, Dean joked, "Gee, that wasn't at all obvious."

        Billy patted him on the back. "I told you I was going to get you a birthday present, didn't I?"

        "Uh huh..."

        Opening the door to another room, Billy said, "Come and get it."

        When Dean entered, he didn't see anything of note. Just what seemed to be a guest room with a bed and typical bedroom furniture. "Oh boy, you got me a room. Do I get to come live here?"

        He heard Billy close the door. Dean turned around to find a girl standing behind him, wearing the cheerleading uniform of Woodsboro High. The big gold 'W' hugged her breasts, which he was pretty sure weren't currently encumbered by a bra. She began jumping around in a birthday cheer, blonde pigtail bouncing just as much as her breasts.

        "Dean, Dean, he's my man, if he can't do it, no one can! Birthday, birthday, now get set, how many spankings do you get?" She punctuated the cheer by jumping and kicking her leg up. "Wooo!"

        Dean's cool was blown temporarily. He looked at Billy, who was posed against the door, smirking. "Uh... spankings?"

        Billy came over and put his hands on the girl's shoulders. "He's sixteen today."

        "Sixteen!" The girl threw down her pom-poms and pushed Dean toward the bed. He allowed her to bend him over the bed with his butt in the air. "One..." She spanked him hard. "Two..." And again.

        Dean slowly began to realize what was going on here. He laughed as she doled out fifteen spankings.

        "...and, sixteen!" The girl reached around, palming Dean's crotch through his jeans. She squeezed and massaged ever so enticingly. "My, my, but you want your real present _bad_."

        It was true; Dean was already half-hard. Not all of that was from the anticipation of doing the girl, though. Something he would leave out of this story as he told it to Alva Keel was that the fight with Billy had brought on most of Dean's erection that night.

        Turning Dean around, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him; everything in that dirty, passionate kiss confirmed for him just what she was offering. She pushed him onto the bed. "Get comfortable, handsome."

        While Dean situated himself on the bed, Billy walked around and took a seat where he could see all the action. The girl pulled her top off over her head. She was indeed not wearing a bra. Dean snickered, squirming and grasping the comforter in his fingers.

        As she climbed on top of him, undoing his belt, Dean asked, "Can I at least know your name?"

        She took his hands and put them on her warm breasts. "Bridget."

*****

        That was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last, that Dean had sex with Bridget Bishop. What else would he have to leave out of this story? Perhaps how as the girl rode his lap, bucking and squealing and crying, "Oh, Dean! You're so good!" that Billy watched the whole time? Or how while Dean rubbed and sucked at her nipples, Billy took out his hard cock and began to masturbate right there? And what about the fact that as they both got off, the two boys constantly caught each other's eye, moaning and grunting, and as they came, Billy and Dean were looking at each other?

        No, he wouldn't be telling Alva Keel that part of the story.

        Alva had finished his lunch, and was starting on a fancy coffee. His eyes were wide with amazement. "So the boy had everyone under his thumb."

        "That's a good way to put it. Stu was throwing fights, his mother was letting him have beyond wild parties, and Bridge was willing to have sex with a stranger as a birthday present. All for Billy." Remembering something, Dean shook his head. "Later on, I was coming back from the bathroom and got turned around in the house. I opened the wrong door and found the game room. It had been pimped up like some sort of porn studio. Two mattresses on the floor and a big screen TV showing a porn movie. A bunch of the kids were in there having sex. You can't tell me Billy's parents didn't know about that."

        "My lord."

        Falling silent for a moment, Dean remembered what he saw that night, the culmination of Troy and Steve's plans. He remembered Aurora, sitting near the wall to wait her turn, crooking a finger at him to come hither. How badly he'd wanted to give in to that decadence, seeing Casey and some other girl he didn't recognize licking up and down the length of Troy's cock (ah, what a life), but he had to get home before it got too late. John would be expecting him home.

        What he saw when he finally found the right room surprised him almost as much. Billy had his tongue between Bridget's legs, licking and sucking greedily. It hadn't been more than ten minutes since she and Dean had finished having sex; Billy had to have his tongue deep in more than just _her_ taste. The thought had made Dean feel awkward, so he went back out to look for his care package.

        "Mr. Winchester? Did you hear me?"

        He looked over the table at Alva. "Oh, sorry."

        "I said that we have a pretty good idea what Stuart and Mrs. Loomis were getting from their loyalty to Billy, but what about the girl? Was she just looking for Billy's friendship as well, or was she his girlfriend?"

        Dean shook his head. "I think she liked hanging out with Billy, but it was more than that. Much more." He sighed. "That night, I gave her a ride home, and I asked her that same question. I expected Bridget to tell me that she just thought we were cute and that was all there was to it. But... it seems that Billy had gained her loyalty another way.

        "He'd made her a promise."

  
 **Notes:** The _Fight Club_ movie wasn't out by 1995, but the book was - that's why Billy mentions the book, but not the movie.


	4. The Little Girl who Lives Down the Lane

**Chapter 4: The Little Girl who Lives Down the Lane**

  
 **Chapters:** 4 of 15 (3,395 words this part)

  
        Dean couldn't stop imagining it. The way Billy's face looked in ecstasy. Head slightly tilted back, lips parted, eyes full of heat. Hand working down near his waist. The way he draped a leg over the arm of the soft chair. Billy's tongue passing over his lips. A needy moan. Why couldn't they stop looking at each other? Why were Dean's green eyes fixed on Billy's coffee brown ones? He couldn't even have told anyone what color Bridget's eyes were, that's how fixated he'd been on -

        "Is this your dad's car?"

        So lost in thought, it startled Dean when she spoke. He glanced over at Bridget in the passenger seat. "Uh... it was. But now it's mine." He grinned widely. "My dad gave 'er to me for my birthday."

        "This boat car?"

        Dean winced. "Ouch, that hurts."

        "You wouldn't rather have a hot little sports car?" Bridget shrugged. "A Camaro or a Mustang or something?"

        "I'll have you know that this is a classic. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala."

        "It's a monstrosity."

        Stroking the dashboard, he said, "She doesn't mean it, baby. Girl doesn't know what she's talking about."

        "It looks like something you'd see on 'Starsky and Hutch,'" Bridget added, pushing it.

        "Hey, they were cool."

        "Yeah, about fifty years ago."

        Dean, with a small chuckle, looked at her and said, "Do you want to walk home?"

        "Not unless I spot one of my friends on the way. Oh wait, I can just duck down so they don't see me in this thing."

        Dean growled.

        Bridget began to laugh. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. I didn't mean it."

        "Yes you did."

        They were quiet for several minutes while Dean drove on toward her house. Two blocks from the address Bridget had given Dean, she said, "Pull over there."

        "Why? I thought your house was on Sycamore." Still, Dean parked the car next to the curb.

        "My dad might still be up, and if he happens to be looking out the window and sees me getting out of your car, he'll be mad. I'll walk from here, okay?" Bridget grabbed her sweater and started to get out of the car.

        Dean noticed the tension in her bare shoulders when she spoke about her father. "You can't walk home alone in the dark. It's after one."

        "Well, if you want to walk me part way..."

        "Just until we get close to your house."

        She smiled gently. "Okay."

        As they ambled slowly down the sidewalk, accompanied by the sound of crickets chirping, Dean asked her some things about which his curiosity was getting the better of him. "So is Billy your boyfriend?"

        "No, not really." Her sweater draped over her arm, Bridget looked up at the sky and tried to spy a star behind the southern California smog cover. "We're just... friends? Really good friends?" She laughed a little. "Have you ever heard of a fuck buddy?"

        "Ah. I see."

        "I'm so glad that you're chuckling at that and not freaking out," she said, rolling her eyes. Bridget reached over and played with the collar of Dean's denim jacket, rubbing the back of his neck as she acted as if to straighten it. "One of the other girls on the squad thinks I'm a whore. Tells everybody I did the whole football team. Of course, there's nothing wrong with _them_ taking part in this imaginary gangbang." She rolled her eyes again. "I don't even like jocks."

        He shrugged. "If you're a whore, I'm a whore too. It isn't any different just because you're a girl and I'm a guy." With a smile, Dean took the hand on his collar and kissed it, winking. "Sex is fun."

        She smiled back, one corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. "Keep talking like that and it can be your birthday every day." Bridget winked too.

        They started walking again. "It's not that I didn't like my birthday present, because, trust me... rrrreeeow..." Dean grinned as he continued. "...but I am really curious how you guys set that up. Billy just asked you to..."

        Bridget was nodding. "He took me out to a movie a few days ago, and after, we were messing around in his car and he just asked me if I would do something for him as a gift to a friend. I didn't know who you were. I have to say, I'm really glad you turned out to be so hot." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "If you ever wanna have another go-round, you let me know, okay?" Bridget whispered in his ear.

        Dean put his arm around her. "Sure." As glad as he was to have a fairly permanent place to live, at least as permanent as permanent ever was for the Winchester family, he didn't necessarily want a girlfriend. That was never easy. A "fuck buddy," as she'd put it, though... Dean was relieved that she didn't seem to mind such an arrangement. Most girls simply didn't know the score. This was easier. He wouldn't even have to make shit up to get this one into bed again. "You didn't know what I looked like?" Dean suddenly asked.

        "No. Billy said you hadn't been here long enough for him to have a picture."

        "What if I'd come in there with a pizza face and a gut as big as a house?"

        Bridget giggled. "I would have done it anyway."

        "Wow... did Billy promise you a cruise to Hawaii or something?" Dean questioned.

        "No," she giggled again. "I'd do anything for Billy."

        "Why?"

        She strangely grew quiet, eyes pensive. Bridget looked down at the ground. "He made me a promise."

        "What?"

        More brooding silence. The streetlight above them was buzzing incessantly. She looked up at him. "If I tell you, do you swear not to tell anyone?"

        "Who would I even tell?"

        Bridget considered it a little longer. Her shoulders relaxed again. "Billy promised that one day, when he figures out just how to do it... he's going to kill my parents for me."

        That stopped Dean cold. He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "What? Why do you want him to do that?"

        Bridget looked at the ground, taking a few small steps forward. Dean started to walk again too. "My parents, they're... they're just horrible. They're such idiots. I can't stand them." She let out a long sigh. "I know it sounds crazy. You'd just have to spend a day with them and you'd understand. I probably shouldn't tell you any more, so you won't be involved when it happens."

        "Yeah, okay. I understand." Dean immediately wrote this off as idle talk. Lots of teenagers said shit about wanting their parents to die. Most of them didn't really mean it. And Billy, he had to be just talking, running off at the mouth to sound like a badass. Dean heard hunters do that sort of thing all the time. Except, they were bragging about killing werewolves or something. Billy wasn't really going to kill anybody.

        When he slipped his arm around her neck again, Bridget looked up at him and smiled. "You don't think I'm a total psycho for wanting something like that?"

        "Nah. I'm sure you have your reasons."

        She smiled again and put her head on his shoulder.

        Dean guessed from the number on the house that they were just a couple houses away from hers now. She stopped and pivoted around to face him, rubbing the toe of one Ked against the sidewalk. "I don't want my dad to see you. But you can stand here and watch me until I get into my house."

        "Works for me." Dean tilted her chin up with his index finger and planted a kiss on her mouth. It turned into a long, deep kiss with her arms wrapped around his neck.

        When they broke the kiss, she had to take a deep breath. "Damn, you make me horny."

        Dean chuckled. "Billy, he, ah... he has this game room, and..."

        "I know all about it," Bridget interjected with a grin.

        "Good. 'Cause, you know, we could - "

        "Damn it, Barry, stop it!"

        Bridget's head snapped in the direction of her house. Her face instantly wore an expression just as frantic as that older female voice sounded. "Shit," she said under her breath. "Uh, thanks for walking me home. I gotta go." She hurried toward her house.

        "Bridget... wait. Are you okay?" He followed her, worried about that voice they'd heard.

        She looked back at him, shadows moving over her troubled face. "I can take care of it. It's nothing."

        Dean kept following her. She was headed for the door in the fence that surrounded her back yard. "What's going on?" he whispered. The closer they got to the backyard, the stronger the smell of burning hickory wood became.

        "Dean, go home." Bridget, her eyebrows dipping in a stern command, opened the fence door and went in.

        He caught the door just before she'd closed it and yanked it open. She glared at him. "What's going on?" he whispered again.

        The older woman let out a shrill scream. "Barry, no! What are you doing?"

        "You stupid bitch, you don't get anything! Stupid bitches who spend all my money on stupid new couches we don't need don't deserve to own a damn thing."

        "That's a photo album, Barry! Stop it, you're drunk! You're drunk!"

        Dean could hear the two people struggling over something, and the licking of flames. God, these were Bridget's parents, weren't they? Who else would be in her backyard, arguing in the middle of the night?

        Bridget seemed embarrassed, not knowing what to do. Her face suddenly looked five years younger, helpless but angry.

        "So what if I wanna drink? I can drink in my own house!"

        Yeah, he sounded drunk, alright. Dean started toward the voices, but Bridget grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

        "The old couch had a spring sticking out of it! We needed a new one."

        "Bullshit. Lemme go! Let go of my arm!"

        "OW! Barry, you're hurting me..."

        "So what?"

        Someone fell back over a piece of furniture, an outdoor chair, from the sound of it. Bridget's mother yelped. "You jerk, look what you did." She began to cry.

        "You deserved it."

        Dean started around the corner of the house, but Bridget was already running by him. "Hey, wait..."

        "Leave her alone!" she was yelling at her father.

        As they rounded the house, Dean could finally see what was happening. Mr. Bishop, whose first name was apparently Barry, had started a fire in a barbecue pit in the ground. Dean was struck by how manicured the foliage was; you wouldn't think such a well-landscaped backyard could belong to such a messed-up asshole. Even the barbecue pit looked like something out of _Better Homes and Gardens_ , with its rounded brick edges and gleaming grill. The man had been burning things in the pit. A pretty, half-charred music box. A set of knitting needles. A pile of _Vogue_ magazines. As much as he could carry.

        Bridget rushed at her father, grabbing the photo album he was trying to shove through the grill slats. "Dad, quit it! There are pictures of Grandma and Grandpa in there! Baby pictures! Wedding photos! Are you crazy?!"

        They wrestled over the album. "Your fucking mother doesn't deserve pictures."

        As Dean came up on them, Barry Bishop pushed his daughter away hard enough to knock her to the ground. Next thing he knew, a strange boy was clocking him in the jaw. The man fell back, seeing blackness and those stars his daughter had been looking for earlier.

        When his vision cleared, he looked up to see some blond boy glaring at him angrily, the photo album in his hands. "Who the hell are you?!"

        "It doesn't matter. You sorry son of a bitch." Dean helped Bridget up and handed her the album. She hugged it to her chest.

        Mr. Bishop held his jaw, moving it around with a wince. "I think you dislocated my jaw. Who _are_ you?" Looking at his daughter, he added, "Have you been catting around with him, you whore?"

        Bridget almost burst into tears. "Daddy!"

        Dean could never stand to see that much pain on a girl's face. He took two threatening steps toward Mr. Bishop, fists clenched. The man flinched. "If I ever hear you talk to a woman like that again, I'll really fuck you up, you got that? And your jaw's not dislocated. I've seen one of those, and that ain't it. Fucking pansy-ass."

        Clawing for something to help him get up, Mr. Bishop cried, "Margie. Margie! Help me into the house!"

        Mrs. Bishop sprang right up and to her husband's side. She seemed to simply be happy that this boy had distracted him enough to end their fight. "You just need to sleep it off. In the morning, you're going to feel stupid."

        "Shut the hell up and help me into the house!"

        Watching her mother haul her father up off the ground after what he had just done, Bridget's bottom lip quivered with inevitable tears. "How can you even touch him right now, Mom? After he burned your things?!"

        "Bridget, hush! Just drop it." They started toward the house. "And send your friend _home_."

        Once they were out of earshot, Bridget began to cry, clutching the photo album like she would never put it down. "Now do you see?" She turned to Dean. "Now do you see _why?_ "

*****

        Alva was shaking his head. "It sounds like the girl had a lot to deal with. What did you do? Did you call the police?"

        "No. My dad... he wanted us to avoid police at all costs, unless we needed their input on a case. It just wasn't..." Dean suddenly remembered Keel's file on his family, and his back stiffened up. "You know how we make our living."

        Alva only nodded once. "Yes. So, Billy had made her this promise, and it ensured her loyalty. Tell me..." He leaned in. "Did he ever make good on this oath?"

        "Not that I know of. And if it had happened, I would have heard about it, believe me."

        Considering the things Dean had told him, Alva looked at him for a long time before speaking again. "Billy was a disturbed boy. Wasn't he?"

        Dean's body briefly went numb. Alva's question had shaken him a little; he could tell from the pensive look on Dean's face. "I'm sorry if..."

        "No. No, it's a valid question." Dean took a deep breath and sighed it back out. "Yes. Billy was a very disturbed boy. I didn't know how bad it really was for a long time, but... eventually, he showed us all."

*****

        When Dean came home from school the next day, John was sitting at the dining room table with his feet propped up on one of its corners. Dean knew from the way his father looked at him that he was in trouble. "Hey Dad." Dean flung his backpack onto the couch.

        "You were out pretty late last night." John leafed through his address book.

        "It was my birthday," Dean replied as an explanation.

        "Yeah, I know, and I get that. It was a school night, but I still let you go out." Putting the address book on the table, he leaned forward. John's feet came down with a solid thud. "You weren't supposed to get into trouble."

        Dean tried to remember what he could have done that his father would consider bad. "I got into trouble...?"

        "Does the name Barry Bishop ring a bell?"

        Rolling his eyes, Dean muttered, "Oh, that asshole..."

        "Yeah." John leveled a hard look at his son. "The guy was here about an hour ago. Says I need to keep a tighter reign on my kid. Says you clocked him one."

        Dean stood up straighter. "Yeah, I hit him. Ass deserved it."

        "Oh?"

        "I gave his daughter a ride home from Billy's party. The guy was drunk, out in his backyard smacking his wife around and burning her stuff because she bought a fucking couch. When he shoved his daughter to the ground, I punched him in the mouth."

        John seemed to consider all this before giving a nod and standing up. "Dean, I can understand why you'd want to defend people in a situation like that, especially women, but you need to remember what I told you before you go around punching out people's fathers. And what's the thing that I told you?"

        Dean already had his head down in disappointment. "Don't call attention to the family."

        "That's right." Sighing, John paused before continuing. "Bishop claims he's a big hotshot lawyer. The guy came here decked out in a suit and everything. He threatened to bring assault charges against you, all kinds of ridiculous bullshit."

        Dean looked up, alarmed.

        John finished his sentence. "But I talked him out of it."

        He sighed with relief.

        Patting him on the shoulder, John said, "Steer clear of this guy from now on, okay? He may be a nimrod who desperately deserved what you gave him, but he could be trouble as well. Just... don't test him, okay?"

        "Yeah, Dad. Okay."

        John got a beer from the refrigerator and then sat back down at the table. "I don't care if you see the guy's daughter, just don't let him know about it."

        Dean grinned at that. "Sure thing."

        "Even if a guy looks like a nobody when you encounter 'im, that doesn't mean he's always a nobody." Opening the beer, John flipped through his address book again. "Sammy's having dinner with the Science Club kids tonight. Bobby and I will be leaving shortly to meet up with a local hunter who has a pretty good idea where the cult has set up camp now."

        Dean, perking up, took a seat at the table. "The Chaos cult?"

        "Yeah. This hunter has seen Chaos demons running around North Cypress Woods for a month now, which was about the same time the cult would have arrived. They're using the demons to set up a perimeter of protection. So they must be in those woods, somewhere."

        "Are those woods really large?"

        "Yeah, that's why we're going to have to scope them out for a while. But it's not so easy." John sipped at the bottle of beer. "These demons aren't very big; they look kind of like coyotes, but they're far more vicious and attack in large packs. Nothing just one man can handle."

        "I bet that local hunter is glad to have you around, then," Dean said with a grin.

        "Pretty much. I only wish I knew more hunters in southern California to help us." John, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, reached the last page of his address book. "We're beginning to think the cult will attempt to raise Chaos on Earth. It would be bad if they succeeded. And they currently outnumber us."

        "Let _me_ go."

        "If I'm able to find more hunters to add to our team, then I'll consider it. But as things stand now, it's too dangerous for even me. We're not making a move on this cult until we can better even out the odds." Closing the address book, John wondered aloud, "Maybe I can get Bill and Ellen Harvelle in on this. Outdoor survival is his specialty."

        Dean didn't like it when his dad got that broody look on his face and subsequently stopped talking. He knew it was important for his dad to think these things through, but sometimes he'd get like that for days and hardly acknowledge that Dean and his brother were alive. He tried to engage John in conversation. "I should probably try to keep my friends out of those woods then, huh?"

        "Yeah..." That broody silence again, staring straight ahead.

        "In case this local guy ever comes around here, how will I know him? It's good for Sam and I to know who we can talk with about hunting, right?"

        John seemed to shake off the trance he'd let overtake him for a minute. "Uh, guy has black hair, lives on the other side of town." He gathered up his address book and keys and put them in his pocket. "His name is Neil Prescott."

  
 **Notes:** I made Neil Prescott a hunter for two reasons: 1). Because I thought it would be a cool twist, and 2). Because Sidney kicked major ass in all the movies. Not only did she kick ass, but she was also a very good shot - you don't shoot at least two different people point blank in the head without having been taught how to shoot a gun. I figure her dad taught her how to defend herself and to shoot.


	5. What Lies Beneath

**Chapter 5: What Lies Beneath**

 **Chapters:** 5 of 15 (3,169 this part)

  
        "Why do I know that name...?" Alva was asking himself.

        Dean smiled thinly, his lips tense. "You probably have a file on 'im."

        Noticing the bitterness behind that look, Alva cleared his throat. "Yes, I think I do. Ah, Mr. Winchester... I'm sorry that the file offends you. I never meant for it to cause your family any problems."

        Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, whatever, you know?"

        Alva wasn't sure what that meant. He decided to just continue with their previous topic of conversation. "I think Mr. Prescott's wife was murdered at some point. Whether it was a creature or a human that did it, I can't recall."

        That thin, bitter smile again. "We're getting to that."

        "Oh? You know how Mrs. Prescott died?"

        "I do." Signaling the waitress, Dean ordered another beer. "With my dad out of the house, I decided to go pal around with Billy that night. He was playing with this pocketknife that was broken, so the blade could be flipped in and out of its handle with just a flick of his wrist. He just kept flipping it open and closed while he drew all these pictures of monsters, like things you'd see in a horror movie. Men with freaky faces, mouths full of sharp teeth and crazy, monstrous eyes, that sort of thing. Billy was obsessed with imagery like that. I didn't know what [the drawings](billysdrawng02.jpg) were about at the time."

        "They weren't just fantasy drawings?" Alva asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

        "No. But I'll get to that too. The point is, I asked Billy that night why he would make a deal like that with Bridget, to murder her parents. He said because she wanted it, and he wanted to make her feel better. That she believed her parents were the enemy and needed to feel like someone was on her side."

        Alva nodded. "Do you think Billy was using it to manipulate her as well?"

        "Yes. I think he did care about her on some level, but most of the nice things Billy did for people were about what was in it for him."

        Just as Dean finished his sentence, Alva's phone began to ring. He put up a halting finger to excuse himself and ask Dean to hold his thoughts until he could answer the call. "Hello? Oh, Evie..."

        Dean instantly snapped to attention. "How's Paul?"

        Alva repeated the question. "How's Paul?" He listened. "Paul feels like he has a hangover, but he's doing okay."

        Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good."

        "What has he been able to tell you about the empathy? ... Evie, you're breaking up. I'm not getting good reception here. Hold on a moment." He got up from the booth. "I'm going to take this call over by the window. I'll be right back."

        "Okay." With Keel away from the table, Dean was left to his thoughts and memories. He couldn't help thinking of how his relationship with Billy deepened as the days went by. At the time, he could deny that something was happening between them, that his sexual feelings were all centered on the girl they shared, but eventually, Dean wouldn't be able to deny it anymore.

*****

        The day after Dean's birthday, he hadn't been able to find Bridget at school. She returned on Thursday of that week. "Hey," he said, leaning against the locker next to hers.

        "Hi, you," she grinned.

        "I didn't see you at school yesterday."

        "After that shit with my dad, I didn't feel like coming." Bridget touched his arm. "I'm sorry my dad went over to your house and gave you shit because of what happened. Was your dad really angry?"

        "Nah. We're not afraid of your asshole father." Dean snickered.

        She shoved her books into her locker roughly, angrily. "So many people think he's such a great guy. All they see is the successful lawyer. They have _no_ idea." Bridget slammed the locker closed.

        Dean rubbed her shoulder, trying to soothe her. "You wanna go somewhere? Get a sundae or something? I could go for some hot fudge right about now."

        With a smirk, Bridget grabbed his shoulders and used them as leverage to jump up on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Dean, although a little surprised, recovered quickly and held her up by her sides. "I could go for some hot _you_ right about now."

        The other students were staring at them. Dean just grinned in their direction. "The sundae can wait."

        Bridget directed him to an out-of-the-way spot in the school where kids sometimes went to smoke or make out. It was a small alcove next to a flight of outside stairs, almost completely walled in and covered by wooden slats. The slats were a few inches apart, so anyone coming down the stairs only had to lean over the railing and look down to see them. Neither Dean nor Bridget seemed to care.

        Dean settled onto a bench, just a wide board mounted on two metal legs, which made it easy for Bridget to sit in his lap with her legs straddling his waist. They were involved in some very deep kissing when Billy came down the stairs and heard the smacking sounds below.

        Grinning, he leaned over the rail, looking down. "What do you kids think you're doing?!" he bellowed in an authoritative voice.

        Both Dean and Bridget jumped in surprise. Dean almost started to panic, but looked up to see Billy's mischievous face floating about fifteen feet above them. "We're knittin' a sweater; what do you think we're doing?"

        "I'm coming down there." Billy leaned further over the railing, letting out a fake scream like he was falling.

        Bridget screamed and covered her head for a moment. "Would you stop that? It really looked like you were going to fall."

        Trotting down the stairs, Billy came over to them, eyeing both rather obviously. "I've always liked that skirt on you," he said, and ran his hand up Bridget's thigh until his fingers brushed the hem of her denim skirt.

        She smirked. "I bet you do."

        Bridget's hair was done up in French braids on the sides, with little tails hanging down behind her ears. Billy took hold of the braids and yanked on them gently, alternating like he was milking a cow. He made squishy noises to accompany each pull. She giggled, rolling her eyes. "Oh Dean, I've always like those jeans on you," Billy said in a high-pitched voice. "I like the way they hug your ass."

        Shaking his head with amusement, Dean pulled on one of the braids too, making the sound of a horn on an 18-wheeler truck. "Wooooooonk! Woooonk, woooooonk!"

        "Are you through?" Bridget laughed, and leaned in to kiss at Dean's neck.

        He wiggled his eyebrows at Billy. "If you're real good and act as our lookout, I'll let you see my butt in these jeans again."

        Billy clapped his hands rapidly, hooting, "Oooooooh!" in that falsetto voice. With a mischievous look, he stood back and leaned against one of the walls, where he could see if anyone came down the stairs or approached from the nearby parking lot.

        Dean knew Billy probably couldn't keep out of this, but he wanted to leave that up to Bridget. At sixteen, as experienced as Dean was, he'd never participated in a threesome before, and if he had, it probably would have been with two girls. The idea of doing something like that with Billy excited him and scared him at the same time.

        Dean knew that if it had been Billy on the bench and him keeping watch, he would have been trying to find a way in within a minute. How could Billy just stand there while Dean pulled Bridget's shirt off over her head and not want to get a piece of the action?

        Easing one of her tits out of her bra, Dean started to suck on it, bringing soft moans from between her lips. Bridget ran her fingers through his hair. "Dean..." she said quietly.

        "Do you want me to unsnap that?" Billy asked of her bra, a teasing smirk on his face.

        "You know I don't," Bridget replied. "Leave it on in case."

        "I know, in case of a quick getaway." He glanced up at the stairs.

        If anything, that told Dean that Billy and Bridget had been down here before. The idea conjured up pictures in Dean's head of the two of them running across the parking lot with Bridget hitching her bra straps back up, being chased by a teacher. He chuckled at that.

        "What?" she questioned.

        "Nothing," Dean mumbled, and went back to giving attention to the nipple in his mouth. He especially liked the noise she made when he rolled it between his teeth.

        Opening his eyes, Dean saw that Billy was watching them; this wasn't a surprise. That dangerous little smile on Billy's face... it made Dean want to tell him to join in. But that wasn't his decision. She needed to give them a sign that it was okay.

        They all knew that taking their time here wasn't a good idea; a teacher could come down those stairs at any moment. "Okay, hold on, hold on," Bridget breathed, and lightly pushed Dean back. He leaned against the wall behind him while she stood up, quickly removed her panties, and settled back into Dean's lap.

        Billy watched her do this, leaning over to get a better view when her skirt came up. "Sssshew," he huffed out, obviously turned on.

        Now straddling Dean again, Bridget looked back at Billy. "You like what you see?"

        "No," he joked sarcastically, and winked.

        She undulated in Dean's lap. He groaned at how good it felt, her grinding against his clothed cock. "Fuck me," she whispered, mouth inches from his ear. He trembled with arousal.

        Taking a moment to pick up her discarded panties, Billy watched her move in Dean's lap, lower back undulating in waves like a belly dancer. His eyes lingered on Dean's face. Dean panted and moaned with his eyes nearly closed. Hardly able to stand it, Billy pushed himself even further by sniffing her panties. His hand rubbed at his crotch.

        With a small growl, Dean worked to undo his pants. His fingers fumbled at it; she helped him. Bridget took his cock out of his pants and stroked it down a few times just to see the ecstasy on his face and hear his needy moans. The same sounds came from behind her, from Billy.

        She looked back at him, seeing Billy undo his belt. "Billy... you can take me from behind."

        Both Billy and Dean did a mental leap of happiness in the air. If they could have, they probably would have high-fived each other, crying, "Woohoo!" Dean reclined a bit more so there would be more of his thighs sticking out from under Bridget, giving Billy room. Billy sat down behind her and continued undoing his jeans.

        Both boys were panting now. Dean wasn't sure what she meant by "from behind;" he'd let her take the lead in the positioning as to not embarrass himself with his lack of threesome experience. He watched as Billy scooted up close to her and hiked up her skirt some more, rubbing her thighs and squeezing her ass. Dean wasn't so green at this that he didn't see the benefit of Billy going in first, with the place he seemed to be about to go. As he spread her back end open, Bridget shuddered with anticipation.

        Dean watched and felt every move Billy made as he shifted on Dean's thighs, from his hand dipping into his lap briefly to the way his mouth turned up in a devilish smile when he rammed himself upward and, taking hold of Bridget's hips, jerked her toward him. Billy looked at Dean over her shoulder, smirking, as she opened her mouth and cried out loudly, unable to hold it in. Mesmerized, Dean just watched the two of them for some part of a minute. Bridget, losing control, shaking all over and breathing heavy and shrill, and Billy, the heat in his eyes, grinning and rubbing her sides, moving his hands up to cup her breasts and finger her nipples while giving Dean a mischievous wink.

        "Mm, she feels good back here," he moaned, and snickered. "You wanna get in on this action?"

        "Whadda you think?" Dean said. He winked back.

        "Oh, wait, slow down. I'm gonna cum," Bridget protested breathlessly. Even so, she braced her hands on Dean's shoulders and squirmed closer to him.

        That dangerous grin again. Billy wriggled his hands under her thighs and lifted her half an inch up and toward Dean. He instantly took hold of his cock to move it into position. They both knew she didn't mean it when she said she wanted them to slow down. "You know you are, baby," Billy whispered in her ear. "Over and over."

        A shockwave of arousal coursed through Dean's body, making him shake. It was the sound of Billy's voice that did that. He was too turned on to overthink it right then. No serious thoughts could have penetrated Dean's mind at that moment, for he was too focused on the feeling of the head of his cock pressing against the entrance to Bridget's channel. He had just begun to open her when Billy practically dropped her on him, pressing forward with his body. Dean slid up inside her. The feeling of that warm, wet heat surrounding him, the pleasure enveloping every part of his consciousness, that was all he could fathom.

        Moaning, Dean ground the back of his head into the stone wall behind him. He was dimly aware of Bridget crying out again and her hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to hurt. The thought of whether or not Bridget was on the pill flitted through his mind before it was driven out again as Billy and Bridget started to thrust.

        The pleasure numbed his mind into a delicious, carefree state where he wouldn't have even noticed if someone came down the stairs above them. Half the time, Dean kept his eyes closed and just let his body feel, listening to the mixture of Billy and Bridget's moans. The other half, he opened his eyes and watched them. Billy's eyes were open every time he looked, sometimes just to slits, but their gaze always met. For the first time, Dean really looked at Billy's hands, and he couldn't stop watching them as his long fingers played from place to place on Bridget's body. She laid her head back on his shoulder, eyes closed. His fingers curled loosely around her neck while he nipped at her earlobe and breathed into her ear. Billy's other hand stayed on Bridget's thigh, slightly underneath, to continue guiding the action of the three bodies moving together.

        Dean slipped his hand into the same place under her thigh and twined his fingers in with Billy's, making it seem like he just wanted to help. Billy smirked at him, a bit like a cat watching its prey, and did not pull away.

        His impish grin widening, Billy moved the hand on Bridget's neck down between her legs. He began stroking at her clit rapidly. She made a gaspy moaning noise and brought her hand up to twist into Billy's hair. He took it a step further by lengthening his strokes, taking his fingers down to where Dean was sliding in and out of her and brushing Dean's cock in motion. God, but Dean _liked_ the way that felt.

        Billy eased Bridget forward again until she was close enough to kiss Dean; he received her mouth in a deep, dirty kiss, and then both boys were sucking on her neck, moving to her ear, their lips mere inches apart. Dean stared at Billy's lips, noticing for the first time how much he liked the shape of them. He forced himself to move to the other side of Bridget's neck. Had he wanted to... had he really thought for a second how much he would have liked to kiss...

        Trembling between them, Bridget cried out with an orgasm, bucking aggressively into both boys to milk it for all it was worth. Her noises and movements sent Dean over the edge as well. The pleasure numbed his mind once again, and he didn't think of how badly he'd wanted to cross a line with Billy that he'd never crossed with any boy before, or how they were doing it without a condom, or how they could be caught... the encounter couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, but to Dean, it symbolized his time as a reckless teenager, without a care in the world.

        Although he'd lost a little of what was happening when he came, Dean was aware by the noises he made that Billy had cum too, and the three lounged together, using each other to prop themselves up while trying to recover and catch their breath.

        Bridget laughed a little and started to say, "What a ride," but she had barely finished the thought when the three were doused with buckets of cold water from above. She gasped in surprise and jerked on Dean's lap, letting out a scream. Dean couldn't help but grunt out loud himself.

        Looking up, Billy growled angrily through gritted teeth. "You... assholes!"

        Dean looked up too. Stu and Randy were leaning over the railing, laughing so hard their voices echoed through the alcove below. "Thought you needed to cool off!" Randy called. Stu did that high-pitched laugh that Dean hated so much.

        Growling again, Billy shoved Bridget upward and clamored off Dean's lap as quickly as he could. As he worked to get himself back in his pants and zip up, he yelled, "I'm gonna kill you!"

        Stu and Randy threw the empty buckets over the rail and ran down the stairs. They were just beginning to cross the parking lot when Billy took off after them. The two boys hooted as they ran away, Stu making crazy whooping sounds like Daffy Duck and darting between cars while Randy ran in a relatively straight line, hollering, "We did you a favor, man, your head was about to explode like _Scanners!_ "

        Bridget, laughing, leaned against Dean and shook her head. "Those jerks..."

        Dean saw that the buckets had Woodsboro High Janitorial Department labels on them, and he wondered just how long Stu and Randy had been watching before they nabbed the buckets and filled them with water. For the first time, he realized just how crazy it was for the three of them to do something like this on school grounds, and he couldn't help but grin. Hell, it'd be crazy anywhere.

        Dean liked the places of sexual abandon to which this little threesome took him. He had no intention of stopping now. No, he wanted nothing more than to take their abandon further.


	6. Tales from the Darkside

**Chapter 6: Tales from the Darkside**

 **Chapters:** 6 of 15 (4,203 words this part)

  
        Alva was coming back to the table. Thoughts of that period in Woodsboro lingered in Dean's mind a few moments longer, his chin resting on his folded hand. None of it would have been possible if it hadn't been for the stability John had provided by working one of the longest cases of his career. He kept his kids in one place for almost a year. Because of that, Dean had allowed himself the luxury of friends, and then the comfort of regular lovers, and finally, the time to explore. Sometimes Dean wondered if caring for anyone was a good idea. In this case, he hadn't been able to help it.

        It was happening all over again. Dean no longer had the stability of a regular place to live, but he still couldn't help caring. He looked up when Alva spoke to him, saying the name of that person that Dean couldn't keep himself from caring for.

        "Paul wants us to come to his apartment," Alva said. "To talk about the empathy."

        Nodding, Dean grabbed the bill.

*****

        On their way to Paul's apartment, Dean's mind wasn't 100% on his driving; he remembered how the night after this first group romp with Bridget and Billy, he had shut himself up in his room and brooded over all the weird feelings he'd experienced during the encounter. The way he wanted to touch Billy's hand, and how much he liked Billy touching him... and Billy's lips... there was no one to talk to about it. No one in his father's world, that's for sure. Dean remembered how Sam had banged on his door, wanting to show him how his science project was coming along, and he had finally relented to get his mind off all those weird feelings he just couldn't understand.

        "On the way home from school today, some high school kids were hassling me and Ricky," Sam started, fumbling with the bag of wooden beads that would be a part of his DNA model.

        "Ricky's in the Science Club?" As they spoke, Dean began building something pointless with the pieces Sam hadn't used yet.

        "Yeah. You know, my school's only a few blocks from yours, so some of the high school kids take the same route that I do."

        "Only the losers without cars, yeah," Dean chuckled.

        Smirking, Sam remarked, "You used to be one of those losers."

        "Shut up, Poindexter. Used to be. Yooooused. To. Be." Dean pegged a wooden dowel at his brother's head.

        It bounced off Sam's forehead. "Ow," he said under his breath, rubbing it.

        Dean snickered.

        "Anyway, these kids said you and Billy screwed some girl right there at school. Like, in the _lunchroom_." Sam's face scrunched up in distaste.

        Clucking his tongue, Dean replied, "It wasn't in the lunchroom. No one saw us. Well, actually..."

        Sam's mouth popped open. "Then it's true?!"

        Dean, putting on his best devil-may-care attitude, shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was no big deal. "Yeah, whatever. The girl can't get enough of us."

        "You... and Billy? _At the same time?_ "

        "Mm-hm."

        "But... how...?"

        Dean picked up some of the extra DNA pieces. "You want me to build you a model?"

        Sam swatted them out of Dean's hand. "That's so gross."

        "Oh, come on, Sammy. You'll be twelve in a few months." Dean leaned in, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. "You haven't thought of this stuff before?"

        Obviously embarrassed, Sam looked down at the bed on which they sat. "Yeah, I've thought of it." He looked up. "But not _that_."

        Dean acted as if he was offended. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

        "You're such a doof. I can't believe any girl would let you do that."

        "You'll think of it differently when you get a little older."

        "I doubt it." Sam scowled in disgust.

        Rolling his eyes, Dean tossed another dowel at him. "Not all girls are delicate wallflowers, you know. They're not all _your_ type." He threw another one. "Surely you can understand _that_."

        Sam grabbed one of Dean's pillows. "Yeah, I can," he began with a laugh. "And don't call me Shirley," Sam finished, and hit Dean with the pillow.

        Dean chuckled at the memory.

        From the passenger seat, Alva looked over at him. "What?"

        "Nothin'. Just a good memory."

        "Oh." They drove on in silence until Alva spoke again. "Did your relationship with Miss Bishop continue?"

        Holding back a snicker, Dean replied, "I'll say." Then he laughed anyway.

        Alva looked at him, expecting more, but settled back in his seat when the other man didn't yet offer anymore details.

        Dean then realized he needed to tell Keel a little more about his relationship with his teenage cohorts. It would figure into later events. "Bridget's issues with her family made her kinda... loose," Dean finally said.

        "Like your birthday present," Alva commented, nodding.

        Dean was glad that Keel's voice didn't hold any judgment; he wasn't in the mood to defend his own teenage promiscuity either, especially not to him. "Yeah. So, she spent a lot of time with both Billy and me over the next few months. I wouldn't really call her a girlfriend... Billy and I kind of... shared her?"

        After a pause, his eyebrows raised, Alva said, "I see."

        Ah, there was the judgment. Dean knew nothing of Keel's sex life, but he thought the man didn't totally approve for whatever reason. "You know, some people have issues that keep them from having normal, vanilla relationships. It doesn't mean they aren't people. Doesn't mean that they're worthless. And it certainly doesn't mean they don't have feelings and goals and all that crap."

        "Of course, I understand. You're right about that."

        Well, he sounded like he meant it... "You're a hard guy to read sometimes, you know that?"

        Alva let out a chuckle, eyes twinkling. "So I've been told."

        "Anyway..." After a pause to give Alva one more perplexed look, Dean continued his story. "...they started sneaking into my room through the window at night. Not every night, but often." The memory that had replayed itself in Dean's dream came back to him once again, except this time, with mental pictures.

         _"Are you entertaining guests tonight, Mr. Winchester?"_

 _Bridget giggling, wearing a fluffy pink sweater._

        The first time the two of them had shown up at Dean's window, it had taken him completely by surprise. John was home, but asleep, so he had constantly shushed them, although he made a few disruptive noises of his own. The truth was, Dean wanted this, he wanted this very much. He knew what they were there for.

        "I'm guessing your friends weren't sneaking in your window to play card games," Alva interjected with a smirk.

        "Nope. Just to play," Dean replied. "You remember what it was like to be a teenager. Don't you?"

        "I most certainly do." Recalling something Dean had just said, Alva asked, "Did you ever do it in reverse?"

        Dean's brow furrowed; was Keel really asking him...? "Uh, what sexual position is that?"

        A pause and Alva began to chuckle quite loudly. "No, no, I meant..." He started chuckling again.

        "Uhhh..."

        "I meant did you and Bridget ever sneak into _Billy's_ room at night?"

        "Oh!" Unable to help it, Dean laughed too. "Um, sometimes. Although, Billy was on the second floor, so we'd throw rocks at his window until he came down and let us in. We used the game room."

        "Billy must've been pretty popular with that room," Alva mused.

        "Well, it was all part of his manipulation game."

        Considering that, Alva said, "Are you sure that's all it was? You don't think he cared at all about either of you?"

        Dean now became silent, thinking it over.

         _He remembered how soft that pink sweater was, how much he liked running his hands over it as Bridget lay next to him. Billy's hands, pulling his shirt off over his head. Was that weird, that Billy did it? What did Bridge think of that? She didn't react. The way the sweater felt against his chest, it's so soft. Dean was almost sorry she had to take it off... **almost** sorry. Laying in his bed, the three of them almost didn't fit. Heat and bodies, pressed so close together, kissing and caressing and hands running over bare skin, and how many times did Dean feel Billy's hand briefly stroke his side or run dangerously close to his behind as they focused their attention on the girl lying between them? How much did he like the exchanges of oral sex with Bridget while the other boy slowly stroked himself down beside them, just staring into Billy's heated eyes and listening to him moan quietly?_

 _But Dean also remembers the nightmare he'd had for weeks following December 19, 1996, a nightmare that still comes to him sometimes. The foyer of Stu's house, littered with bodies. Some stabbed, some shot, all covered with blood. Billy, lying dead on the floor with a bullet in his head. And Sidney Prescott, standing in the middle of it all with tears running down her face, her shirt stained red. Because her hair is black, the blood in her hair looks like blackberry jam. It sticks together in clumps on the side where Billy stabbed her in the shoulder._

 _As Dean comes into the house, she points the gun at him. She who was innocent, ignorant of every bit of Billy's deceit, she who shouldn't have had to be the one to end this._

 _Sidney points the gun at Dean and sobs, "Why didn't you **warn** me?"_

        "Man, I..." Dean sighed, not knowing how to answer Keel's question. "I just don't know."

*****

        The first thing Dean saw when he entered Paul's apartment was Paul sunk down into the couch, not wearing a shirt, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair a little messy, he looked hung over. But he managed to smile when Alva and Dean entered.

        The first thing Paul saw when they entered was that gentle, concerned smile Dean seemed to reserve only for him and his little brother, Sammy. Keel looked concerned as well, but also ready to experiment with these new empathic abilities Paul had discovered; he'd seen that inquisitive look in Keel's eyes before.

        Sam sat in the armchair nearby and Evie was leaning on the arm of the couch, occasionally running her fingers through the dark strands at Paul's hairline. "He's feeling a lot better," she said.

        "The coffee helped," added Paul, and let out a little laugh.

        "That's good," Alva said. He sounded genuinely relieved.

        Alva beat Dean to the couch, taking the seat to Paul's left. Dean leaned against the arm of the chair in which his brother sat. "Mr. Winchester says you performed a new form of empathy."

        Nodding, Paul described for Alva what he had done.

        "You could _see_ what Samuel was observing in his vision?"

        "Mm-hm."

        "And interact with each other," Sam interjected.

        "That's amazing. Just by touching him."

        Paul nodded again.

        "Now, don't quote me on this, because I'd have to consult Lassiter's book to be sure, but I think there's a name for this." Thinking, Alva laid a finger against his lips.

        "Lassiter McNeal?"

        "Yes. His wife could do this too, touch others and see what they were thinking. I seem to recall that the mental pictures were dull in people with very little manifested psychic ability, and she could not communicate with their thoughts." Alva leaned forward and put his hands together, tapping his fingertips against each other. "But when she touched other psychics..."

        "The mental pictures were vibrant, and she could talk to them in their heads too," finished Paul.

        Now Alva nodded. "They called this ability osmotic clairvoyance. Clairvoyant visions passed from a person to a psychic, or from one psychic to another, through touch."

        "Osmosis..." Paul said to himself. "I absorbed it through skin contact." They all fell silent for a moment, taking it in. "Do you think Diane McNeal passed this ability to me as well?"

        Surprisingly, Alva shook his head. "I've done some reading. I'm starting to think that Diane didn't pass any abilities to you at all."

        Paul looked confused.

        "What I think she actually did was _awaken_ abilities she could see you already had."

        Everyone "ohhhh"ed and nodded their heads. "That makes sense," said Dean.

        "Abilities like her own," Alva finished.

        "But, when Diane touched me," Paul began, pointing to his forehead, "she said, 'Abilities like mine shouldn't be put to waste in the grave. I pass it on to you.' And then a surge of energy ran through me."

        "Well, perhaps once you feel better, we should try to contact her, and test my theory. It's just not something we think of as possible, Paul - passing psychic abilities from one person to another. Not that way." Alva shrugged. "Awakening your own natural abilities, now that's more likely."

        Remembering what happened with Max Miller, Sam questioned, "If Paul had somehow absorbed this woman's abilities through a, a power he had, if you will, then it would probably have worn off by now, huh?"

        "I would think so. Paul's contact with Diane McNeal happened in 2003. Those sorts of things are usually temporary." Alva turned toward Paul. "This other thing that you did, taking on Samuel's pain... we're going to work on getting better control of that. It could be very useful, don't you think?"

        Paul's enthusiastic nod in response showed he wanted to work on this as much as Alva did.

        Dean opened his mouth to add a comment about Paul's safety, but Alva finished his thought before he could speak. "It'll be better for you, like exercising a muscle. If you don't use any part of your body, it can become weak, and when you try to put it to work, it will cause you pain."

        "Yeah. Like when you exercise and get sore muscles."

        "Yes. But the more you work, those sore muscles become better. Stronger."

        "So this would be kind of like working Paul's brain," Dean interjected. "Or, wherever his powers come from."

        "Right."

        "And he would experience less pain. Be able to handle it better. Get more control."

        Alva nodded. "Yes."

        "What about me? Is this something I could do?" Sam suddenly asked. "I certainly don't enjoy getting a monster headache anytime these visions decide to hit me."

        "Well... maybe, Samuel. I don't have much experience with your personal abilities yet, so it's hard to say. But we can experiment. Make the SQ office into a sort of lab," Alva replied, adding a little grin.

        Dean wondered how they were going to accomplish this. He and Sam hadn't been able to find a way to control Sam's visions at all so far; they just happened. To himself, Dean did hope that allying themselves with Keel would help Sammy, would help end his baby brother's suffering and confusion over what was happening.

        Their work with the supernatural hadn't touched them this close to home before, not since the death of their mother.

        Evie checked her watch. "I've got to go pick up Matty at school."

        "Why don't we come with you?" Alva indicated Sam and himself. "Samuel can tell me about the vision he had in detail, and we can go get Matty's new rocket car at the same time."

        "Oh, so you remember promising to buy him one for helping you put in that closet organizer?"

        Alva feigned offense. "Of course I do. What do you take me for?"

        A little grin crossed Sam's face. He didn't seem to mind coming with them at all. "Sure, I'll come."

        As Alva got up and Evie headed for the door, Dean took his chance to move to the couch. "I'll stay here and look after Paul. I've got to catch him up on what I've been telling you about Billy."

        Sam reacted to that, biting at his bottom lip. "Ah, yeah." How would Paul react when he saw Billy Loomis?

        Once they were out the door, Dean leaned toward Paul to give him a little kiss, but Paul was still looking at the closed door, grinning. "Your brother kinda likes Evie. I could feel it when he looks at her."

        Dean leaned back against the couch. "Great. Now I'm going to be sick."

        Rolling his eyes, Paul moved closer to Dean and lightly kissed his mouth. "What else did you want to tell me about Billy?"

        Dean let out a long sigh. "Where do I start?"

        He told Paul everything he'd already told Alva, although this time, he didn't leave out the sexual and romantic detail about how much he had wanted Billy, how their activities with Bridget were just a catalyst for what they also wanted to do with each other. "It was really confusing for me, you know? I'd never felt that way about a guy before."

        "I can imagine." Paul had his fingers in Dean's hair, softly stroking the side of his head.

        "Billy and I had been messing around with Bridge for a little under two months when something... something happened between just the two of us for the first time. That night, Billy went out with Stu and he wouldn't let anyone else come along. I went to the movies with Bridget. My dad insisted I take Sammy along 'cause he was going to be out all night on surveillance."

        "The Chaos cult."

        "Right. And somehow, Randy wangled his way into coming. I didn't mind or anything, I just didn't know him as well as the others. I asked him why Billy wanted to go out with just Stu and no one else could come, and he said that Stu was like that sometimes. He could be a jealous friend, Randy said." Looking troubled at the memory, Dean stared at Paul's other hand, thinking of how much it resembled Billy's hands, even with the age difference between them. "There were things there not even Randy knew."

        "What movie did you guys see?" Paul asked.

        Dean suddenly looked at him, at his face, and chuckled at how curious he was. "Why do you want to know that?"

        "I didn't know you when you were a teenager. It's, I don't know, fun to hear what you were like back then."

        Dean smiled, leaning over to kiss Paul's lips before continuing. "We saw a double feature of _Creepshow_ and _Creepshow 2_. Billy's mom actually gave us all a ride to the movie theatre. I don't remember why; I mean, several of us had cars. She somehow wormed her way in. We went one way and Billy and Stu went another..."

*****

        There was something about squeezing seven people in a car simply not built to hold that many people that teenagers found appealing. Dean, Sam, Bridget, and Randy piled into the back seat and Stu pulled Billy into the front with him while Mrs. Loomis drove. The entire way to the movie theatre, everyone laughed and joked and shoved playfully at one another when an elbow ventured too far into someone's ribs or someone accidentally stepped on someone else's foot. Although he was bothered by the way Stu kept turning to glare at him without a word, Dean joined in on the horseplay as well.

        The expression on Sam's face made it seem as if he had stars in his eyes; Dean mused that this must be a big thing for him, hanging out with all these older kids. Sam kept awkwardly glancing at Bridget's low-cut top when she wasn't looking and laughing at Randy's impressions of Jerry Lewis.

        "Hey, laaaady!" Randy cried, sending Sam and Bridget into renewed giggles. "You're going to pass the theatre, nice driving lady person."

        "I know where it is, Randy. It's right up here," Mrs. Loomis replied.

        "Who is this Randy? My name is JERRY, he-LLOOOO!"

        Billy plugged his ears with his fingers. "Yeah, we're in a car, Randy. I'm deaf now."

        Stu reached over the seat and punched Randy's arm. They play-wrestled while Mrs. Loomis tried to drive the car into the parking lot.

        "What are you kids seeing?" she asked, ignoring the bouncing of the car.

        "Stu wants to see _Heavy Metal_ ," Billy said.

        "And we're going to see a double feature of _Creepshow_ and _Creepshow 2_ ," Dean added. "Are you sure you want to miss that, Billy? This is the last weekend."

        Billy shrugged, tilting his head toward Stu to indicate that he was just doing it to please his other friend. Or shut up Stu's whining, as Dean liked to think of it.

        "They won't let you kids into movies like that. They're all rated R," Mrs. Loomis said with a laugh.

        "It's okay Mom, I know a guy at the theatre."

        "Oh," was her only reply.

        When they piled out of the car, the kids from the backseat almost falling all over each other and laughing about it, Billy leaned down to the passenger window and gave his mother a parting comment. Imitating a character from _Creepshow 2_ , he said in a monstrous voice, "Thanks for the ride, lady!"

        Although it was obvious that Mrs. Loomis didn't get it by the confused look on her face, she still laughed. "Oh, okay! You're welcome, honey. You kids have a great time!"

        They snickered as she drove away.

        Dean nudged Billy's elbow. "See? You wanna watch the double feature with us."

        "Yeah, come on guys, let's all go see the same movie."

        Stu shook his head. "Nuh-uh, I wanna see _Heavy Metal_ , and Billy already said yes. You snooze, you lose."

        Shrugging again, Billy allowed himself to be lead off. "We'll meet up later, okay?" he said, and walked off with his hands in his pockets.

        "Oh, screw them. I don't like seeing movies with Stu anyway. He's so loud." Bridget put an arm around Sam's shoulders. His eyes widened and he ducked his head. "We're going to see two movies for the price of one, while they see only one movie. I think that puts us ahead, don't you Sam?"

        He raised his head, smiling. "I definitely do."

        Dean ruffled his brother's hair.

        As they headed for the theatre, Randy suddenly said, "Wait, how are we gonna get in? _Billy_ knows the guy."

        Dean took out his fake ID. "Didn't you know I'm 19?"

        The attendant at the box office window didn't question Randy and Bridget's ages, but he did make Dean show his ID to prove he was old enough to get Sam in. The teens had a great time making fun of the cheesier parts of the double feature. Randy got the biggest laugh of the night when he tapped Sam on the shoulder during _Creepshow_ at the point where the ape monster jumped out of the crate. He topped it off by yelling, "RAAAAH!" at the same time. Sam jumped and grabbed Bridget's thigh, causing her to scream and throw popcorn all over everyone. Though a little embarrassed, even Sam had to laugh, his hand to his mouth.

        The kids waited for Billy and Stu after the movies, but they never showed up. Billy's friend from the theatre came out half an hour later. "Oh, I saw them leaving. Stu said they were going to his house."

        "Those jerks. We might as well walk home," Randy said, rolling his eyes.

        "We walk Bridget home first."

        "Thank you, kind sir," she responded. "I always feel safe when I have lots of big, strapping men to walk me home."

        Deliberately contradicting her statement, Dean came at her with his hands out as if he was going to choke her. "I want my cake!" he rasped, imitating a ghostly corpse from _Creepshow_. "I want my Father's Day cake!"

        She squealed, backing away from him. Dean picked Bridget up and put her over his shoulder, spinning her around a few times to make her scream and laugh before putting her down.

        On the way, Randy began talking about a TV show he liked. "I saw the funniest show on Mtv the other night; I think it was called 'The State'?"

        "Oh, I've seen that. Sometimes they're kinda funny."

        " _Kinda_ funny? You don't know comedy, man. They did this skit where they were running down the street, pretending to be 18-wheelers and cars and stuff." Randy put his arms out in front of him and curled his hands like he was holding a steering wheel. " _Hooonk hooonk!_ " he hollered, and steered into Bridget, bumping her.

        She became a hot little sports car. "Beep beep!" she said, pressing her invisible horn, and slammed into Randy hard.

        Grinning, Dean turned into the Impala. "Vrrrrrrummmm, vrrrummmm!" He bumped into Bridget too.

        The kids began running down the street, chortling and giggling and slamming into each other. Dean snatched up Sam and threw him over his shoulder. Sam laughed loudly, kicking his legs. "Picking up a passenger!" Dean announced.

        "Road hog! HOOOONK HOOOONK!"

        "Beep beep!"

        "VRRRRUMMM!"

        "I think you need some work under the hood, sir!" Sam started beating his fists on Dean's behind.

        They ran down the street like that for at least a quarter of a mile, just one fender bender after another.

  
 **Notes:** I made up the term osmotic clairvoyance.


	7. Fatal Attraction

**Chapter 7: Fatal Attraction**

 **Chapters:** 7 of 15 (4,307 words this part)

  
        Paul was laughing. "It sounds like you had a lot of fun."

        His eyes twinkling with the memory, Dean chuckled and nodded. "I do have some very good memories of that time in my life. It's not all doom and gloom, you know?"

        "You said this was the night you and Billy...?"

        Dean's mood changed almost instantly, to one of seriousness. "I dumped Sam off at home and he could tell there was something bothering me. So he said he'd be okay by himself if I wanted to go back out. I snuck off to Stu's house..."

        Although he should have expected this, Paul still looked momentarily surprised. "You were jealous."

        "I wanted to know what they were doing. Why couldn't the rest of us come? I snuck around the house like a burglar and looked in all the windows. Most of the house was dark, but I came to this one room that had a little light on, and... I saw Billy on the couch with Stu... between his legs... sucking him off." Dean still seemed dejected over the memory, even though it had been over ten years since it happened.

        "Ouch. It bothered you, huh?"

        "Yeah. It was really confusing, how jealous I got. I didn't want Billy to enjoy himself that much with anyone but me and maybe Bridge. His eyes were closed most of the time, but shortly after I came to the window, Billy lifted his head and stared right at me, like he could see me. The room was too dimly lit for me to tell for sure..."

        "But he did," Paul confirmed.

        "Yes. Billy saw me. A couple hours later, he came over to explain..."

*****

        It had taken Dean an hour to wear his brother down enough to get him to sleep, Sam was so keyed up from the movies and the fun experience he'd had hanging out with the older kids. Once alone, Dean stripped down to his underwear and laid on top of his covers in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't get it out of his mind. Billy... not only did he like guys, but he was doing that stuff with _Stu_. Yuck.

        There eventually came a knock at his window. Dean got up. He already knew it was Billy. Who else would it be, unless Bridge had snuck out...

        No, it was Billy.

        Dean tried to hide his angry jealousy. "Hey," he said as he raised the window.

        Billy climbed in. "Hey Dean."

        They looked at each other in the light coming in through the window, from a streetlight on the corner. "You guys ditched us after the movie."

        "Yeah, I'm sorry. I wanted to explain." Billy stayed on his feet, but Dean sat on the edge of his bed. "Stu can be like that sometimes. He wants me all to himself."

        Pausing for an uncomfortable amount of time, Dean finally said, "I could see that," and looked down at the floor.

        Billy stepped a little closer. "So you did see us. At Stu's house."

        Dean just nodded. They didn't say anything for nearly ten seconds, which was a long time in such a conversation.

        "Why were you sneaking around Stu's house anyway?"

         _Not because I was jealous!_ Dean almost snapped, but caught himself. "Because I... I wanted to know..." Finally, he sighed. "I don't know."

        Billy leaned down, trying to catch Dean's eye. "Was it because you were jealous?"

        Dean instantly looked up, but seeing Billy staring at him, looked away again. "What do you mean? Why would I be jealous?" Before Billy could say anything else, Dean launched into the most important question, at least to him. "So, are you bi? Are you and Stu, like... together?"

        "No, Stu and I are not together." Billy put 'together' in air quotes. "And about being bi... I don't know. It's not like I go out searching for guys to fool around with. I don't do anything else with Stu. I've never sucked his dick. I've never even kissed him."

        "You just let him suck _your_ dick."

        "Yeah. Why not? I mean, it feels good."

        "Yuck." Dean wanted to wrap his pillow around his ears.

        "I know you and Stu don't like each other, and I know why he doesn't like you, but why are you so antagonistic with him?" Billy asked.

        "'Cause he's a jerk to me. And a loud-mouth." Dean paused, realizing what Billy had said. "Why doesn't Stu like me?"

        Crouching down in front of him, Billy lightly touched Dean's knees. "Because he sees you as his competition."

        The soft, warm tone of Billy's voice sent a tingle up Dean's spine. He went a little numb, though, when Billy moved his face closer to Dean's and gave him a small kiss.

*****

        When he heard that, Paul also tentatively touched Dean's knee. He didn't think or realize that it would allow him to see Dean's memory, especially not that vividly.

*****

        Dean accepted the kiss at first. How _badly_ he'd been wanting to do this, for weeks and weeks, how much he'd fantasized about it while Billy masturbated in front of him. Billy's lips were soft and warm, and his cock instantly began to respond.

        When Dean felt Billy's hand go to the back of his head and the kiss begin to grow deeper, he pushed Billy away. "No, wait..."

        Their lips were mere centimeters apart as Billy tried to talk him into it. "I've seen you watching me when I jack off. You and Bridget are fun to watch, but I _long_ to touch you, Dean." One hand caressed the underside of Dean's thigh. "I don't want to suck Stu off because it's _you_ I want to do that to. I won't dirty my mouth with him; I want _you_." Billy kissed Dean again, harder this time.

        "No, come on, wait... wait..."

        "Are you telling me you don't want this?"

        "Uh... I... I've never..."

        Billy stroked Dean's thigh, trying to get a hand under his backside. "It's okay. Just do what your body wants."

        "But I'm not... I mean, I've never..."

        "It's _okay_. I won't make you do anything you don't want to." Billy started kissing Dean again, easing him back onto the bed.

        "But, what do you want to do?" Dean asked between kisses. He wasn't exactly stopping Billy, was he? It felt so good, he wanted to, Jesus, why did he want to?

        "Rub on you. Kiss you. Will you let me suck you off? You don't have to do it back if you don't wanna." Billy was whispering now, hot breath on Dean's lips. "It can just be experimentation. Doesn't have to be anymore than that."

        Dean slowly realized between the shockwaves moving from his crotch to his brain that Billy had laid him back and wedged himself between his legs, lying on top of him. As he kissed Dean's neck, Billy began to rub his crotch against Dean's, slowly and methodically at first.

        Dean couldn't help it; he moaned out loud. He could feel Billy's hands working under him. Billy's lips on his neck and ear were shorting out his brain, and he did nothing to stop it when Billy eased down his underwear in the back and squeezed his ass. Billy was getting hard too, he could feel it. Dean wasn't even sure how he knew what a hard cock would feel like when it was rubbed against his, but somehow, he knew that's what he was feeling. Instinct. It had to be instinct.

        The denim of Billy's jeans, that stiff fabric, and Dean wearing nothing but underwear, which was coming off... the feeling drove him crazy. His hands moved before he even knew what they were doing and he realized he had handfuls of Billy's ass, squeezing it, pressing him down. This time, they moaned together.

        And then they were rubbing against each other and kissing, deep, hungry kisses. Dean felt his underwear come down; the denim and the zipper of Billy's jeans were biting into his bare skin. He threw his head back, moaning and hissing.

        Billy moved down his chest. Dean couldn't believe this was happening. Then his cock was surrounded by warm, wet heat as Billy took him into his mouth and slowly moved all the way down, taking Dean in to the hilt.

        Dean made a strangled moaning sound.

*****

        "It couldn't have been more than a minute before I came in his mouth," Dean mused, shaking his head at the memory. "He got me so keyed up, I just couldn't help it. Then we laid there across my bed and just kissed for a while. I offered to beat him off and he let me, gladly. I just couldn't... return the favor, if you know what I mean. I wasn't ready. I was already freaking out... what would Sam say if he found out? What would my _dad_ say?"

        Because he hadn't said anything yet, Dean looked at Paul. Paul's eyes were unfocused, looking at something in his mind's eye. Then he stared at Dean with wide eyes and abruptly took his hand off his knee. Paul let out a loud breath he'd been holding, blinking rapidly, trying to clear his head.

        "Paul, what's wrong? You're acting like you had a vision or something."

        "I saw it," Paul began. "I touched you and I saw your memory."

        "What? But I'm not psychic." Dean tried to fathom what had just happened. "Was it all dull and colorless?"

        "It was different from what I saw when I touched Sam, but... it was _not_ dull and colorless." Paul huffed out a heavy breath. "I could feel _everything_."

        Looking down at his knee, Dean pointed out, "You were touching me through clothes. It wasn't even skin-to-skin contact. Wow... your abilities are strong."

        Dean clapped Paul on the shoulder near the end of his sentence. He jumped as if Dean had shocked him, making a similar noise to the one young Dean had made when Billy's mouth first took him in. The noise startled Dean. "I'm sorry, I'm just... having trouble disconnecting."

        "It made you..." Dean couldn't help but grin. "The memory turned you on."

        Nodding, Paul repeated, "I could feel _everything_."

        "Hmmm..." Dean moved a little closer to him.

        Paul put a hand on his chest to hold Dean at arm's length. "Wait."

        "What?"

        "The memory I saw... it was dark in your room, but I thought..." Confusion and doubt overtook Paul's face, furrowing his eyebrows and sharpening his gaze. "Were you imagining that Billy looked like me?"

         _Oh..._ "Uh... Paul, I hadn't... hadn't gotten a chance to tell you that yet... but I was getting to it."

        "Tell me what?" Before Dean could say anymore, Paul asked, "Did Billy look like _me?_ "

        Dean cringed at the very thought of this conversation, but he did nod and say, "Yeah. Billy looked like you. Younger you, but you could see the resemblance."

        "This kid... this... _mass murderer_... looked just like me?" Paul, his elbows on his knees, hovered his hands before his face. "Why?"

        "I have a theory about that." Dean tentatively touched Paul's shoulder again. When he didn't jump, Dean began to massage the back of his neck.

        "But, how could you ever explain it?" Paul lowered his face into those waiting hands. "It makes no sense."

        "Maybe it does." Knowing no other way to do it, Dean launched into his theory about Paul and the Inner Circle. "For some reason, you've all been made from the same mold, if you want to call it that. You all look alike."

        Paul was shaking his head. "This is crazy."

        "Isn't any more crazy than anything else we deal with."

        He finally looked up at Dean. "You're saying that there are _more of them_ out there? More guys running around, who look just like me?"

        "I think so."

        Paul folded his hands together, inserting the tips of his thumbs between his lips, just leaning on them and rocking himself, thinking.

        "If they're not all dead already," Dean added.

        Paul sighed around his thumbs, closing his eyes.

        Dean renewed his neck massage. He wanted nothing more than to calm Paul down. "I know this is weird. I know I'd be freaking out too if I was told there were a bunch of guys running around out there who look just like me. But we'll figure this out, okay? We'll figure it out together."

        Although he was quiet a moment longer, Paul finally drew himself out of his startled shell and smiled at Dean. "I know. I know we will."

        "Paul, ah... I know this may not be the best time to ask, but... you said you could feel everything in my memory. Right?"

        "Uh huh."

        "Could you feel Billy's emotions too?"

        Nodding, he replied, "Yes."

        "Wow, that's amazing. Uh... how did Billy feel? I mean, when he seduced me, was he... was he just trying to manipulate me into doing what he wanted, or did he, you know... did he care about me?"

        A little taken aback, Paul just looked at Dean for a moment. Then he took Dean in his arms and hugged him close. "Oh, Dean, no. No no no, don't hurt like that." Paul stroked his hair.

        Dean hadn't expected that reaction. This was all so new; sometimes he forgot Paul was an empath. He leaned into the embrace. A part of him wanted to cry, finally having said it. Why did he want to cry?

        Paul drew back and began to kiss Dean on the mouth, small, loving kisses. "Don't ever think such things. He cared about you. I think he may have even loved you. But he was scared, _so_ scared, Dean. Billy may have seemed confident that night, but he was afraid. And when you responded to his advances, he was relieved."

        They sat on the couch with their foreheads pressed together, sharing occasional kisses while they spoke. "It's just hard, you know, to separate the Billy I knew intimately from the Billy who _stabbed_ people to death. He could be so angry. I don't even know why I care. Paul, why do I care? Why does it matter to me if a murderer loved me or not?"

        "Because it hurts to think that your first, that someone you loved, was just using you, that they were pretending to care for you. Dean, the fact that Billy did those horrible things doesn't have to change how you felt about him. You knew his vulnerable side. You saw the frightened boy behind the crimes, hm?"

        Dean just nodded.

        "You don't have to feel guilty over loving him. You don't have to hate the Billy you knew. Sometimes, people spiral out of control and we do everything we can to save them, but it doesn't work out." Paul hugged Dean to him again. "Emotions can't be turned off like flipping a switch. You don't have to feel bad because you cared for him. Not with me."

        They sat like that for a while, holding each other, and Dean realized how much he liked this, how much he _needed_ this kind of intimacy, and he wondered if it was a good idea to allow himself to get used to it, with the lifestyle he lead. He couldn't deny it to himself, not while he was holding Paul in his arms - he couldn't deny that he was falling in love with Paul Callan. A part of him never wanted this to end.

        "No, you're right," Dean said. "You can't turn off your emotions like flipping a switch." He kissed Paul on the lips again. "Even when it might be better for you both."

*****

        When the mood passed, Dean and Paul released their embrace and Dean continued his story. "Billy started climbing in my window as often as he could and we would make out for a couple hours. Half the time, he brought Bridget. That was really awkward for a while."

        "Because of what you and Billy had been doing alone."

        "Yeah. About the fourth time he brought her, something was different. She looked at us like a hungry tiger would look at a couple of gazelle. All wide-eyed and curious, ready to try new things." The awkwardness from the memory crept into Dean's posture; he visibly cringed. "On the way to my house, Billy had told her."

        "Oh wow. I bet you thought Bridget would run away and tell the whole school, huh?"

        "I was definitely afraid of that, yeah. Lucky for Billy, I wouldn't have to kill him, because she kinda liked it." Thinking about what he'd said, Dean cringed again. "You say things like that in jest... 'I wouldn't have to kill him'... but they just don't mean the same thing after..."

        Paul rubbed his arm soothingly.

        Sighing, Dean continued. "Anyway, I'm not sure that Bridge would have come off so well herself if she'd told the other kids at school what we'd been doing. 'Hey everybody, I get off on watching two guys make out.' That's not exactly the most acceptable kink for chicks, either."

        "So, she liked to watch."

        "Yeah, and join in. And play with herself while watching and joining in. I did mention we were teenagers, right? Raging hormones."

        Paul nodded.

        "It was our little secret." Dean relaxed a bit, just as he had when all this was happening in 1995. "The fact that Bridget liked it made the whole thing a lot easier. Realizing you've got a thing for your male friend... that's hard. When you have a female audience spurring you on, you just go, to get her excited. It doesn't seem so wrong."

        Paul added, "Well, I imagine it wasn't such a chore for her. If Bridget liked watching two guys together, she could do a lot worse in the looks department."

        "You do realize you just said a guy who looks like you is attractive?" Dean commented with a laugh.

        Paul rolled his eyes, laughing too. "I meant you."

        "Yeah, yeah. Ego maniac," Dean teased, and winked. "Anyway, I'm actually really surprised we never got caught, with how many nights this went on. My dad was gone a lot and Sam stayed over at friend's houses sometimes, or was asleep in his own room. There was one time, though, that he almost caught us."

        "Uh oh..."

        "Billy came over after school to do homework and of course, we got out of hand. We had both just taken our shirts off and, well... I forgot to lock the door." Rolling his eyes at the memory, Dean finished, "Sam came in without knocking. I got really mad because I was embarrassed and yelled at him, threw a pillow at him or something."

        "Do you think he knew what was going on?" Paul asked.

        Dean considered the possibility. "I don't think so. It was over ten years ago. If Sam knew what was happening, wouldn't he have said something? I mean, holy shit, my brother is screwing a guy. Wouldn't you have said something by now?"

        "Well... he was just a kid back then..."

        "Yeah, you're right. He probably didn't know."

        Paul suddenly began to chuckle. "Hearing about your teenage sex life, it makes me realize how vanilla I am. Only sixteen and involved in a love triangle."

        Dean had to laugh too. "Yeah, but you had a lost weekend in college with some bondage maven."

        Letting out a loud chuckle, Paul shook his head. "Let's not get into that." He eyed Dean carefully. "You really like those threesomes?" His tone had grown awkward as he looked at the other man from under his bangs.

        "Yeah, sure," Dean replied with a shrug. He leaned back on the couch, closer to Paul. "It's not something I _have_ to do, but I like 'em. What about you?"

        "I've never had a threesome."

        "You ever wanna do one, I can make it good for you." Dean ran a finger along the side of Paul's face and under his chin. Licking his lips, Paul leaned into him, giving Dean a little kiss. "We can go slow. Make it gentle."

        Paul whispered, "I don't understand the levels you're taking me to. Before you, there were things I never even thought of doing." They kissed. "Now, I'd try almost anything you wanted because I know you would take care of me." The two men kissed again, deeply and with passion.

        Dean didn't know how he was ever going to get this conversation back on track, with all the side roads they kept taking. "It's not that I don't love kissing you, babe, but there are parts of this story I can't tell with everyone else present. We need to finish talking about this before they get back."

        Reluctantly, Paul nodded and moved back. "Okay. It's just..." He leaned into Dean and kissed him again.

        Dean finally had to draw up all his strength, pushing Paul away. "Later, later."

        Once more, Paul nodded and slid a few inches away from him. "You better continue. Quick."

        "Okay." Running a hand through his hair, Dean tried to get control of himself. "I know what will dampen my libido. A story about Stu."

        "Oh, yeah. How did he react to all of this?"

        "Well, as you can imagine, he wasn't happy..."

*****

        Billy had taken their relationship to this new level about a week before, and Dean still felt a bit overwhelmed by it. As he exited the school through a side door, his mind wasn't on anything around him, but on the things he and Billy had done only the night before, and why he wanted those things to continue. _"I can't be gay; I still really like chicks,"_ he thought. _"So what is this? And how can I keep my family from finding - "_

        "Winchester!"

        Dean turned around. Stu had been waiting for him by the door, as he knew that was the one Dean most often used on his way out of school. Although Dean saw the displeased look on Stu's face, he didn't even flinch as the other boy approached him, just stood his ground with his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Yeah?"

        Stu tried to be intimidating, but it wasn't a very convincing act since Dean was clearly the bigger guy. "I'm only going to tell you this once. You need to stay away from Billy."

        Dean gave a casual shrug. "Why would you want me to do that?"

        "You know why," Stu replied, his lips tight and stretched over his teeth. "I've been here a lot longer than you have."

        "I don't know what you mean, Stu," Dean said. He was enjoying this. If Stu intended to put on a big prick-waving show, Dean was going to make him say it.

        Rolling his eyes, Stu continued, "Listen, nimrod. I want you... to stay... away from Billy. Did you get that?"

        "I heard you." Dean made it obvious by the sly smile on his face that he had no intention of doing what Stu wanted of him.

        Stu let out a sigh. "Okay, it's obvious you're too dumb to get it, so I'll make things clearer. If you don't stay away from Billy, I will fuck you up. Do you understand me?"

        Dean just laughed, mockingly. " _You_ are going to fuck me up."

        "Yeah. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

        Laughing again, Dean stepped into Stu's personal space. Stu's bottom lip quivered and his eyelid twitched, but he tried to stand his ground. However, Dean knew from those involuntary movements that Stu was scared. "Look, I know you don't want to lose your little boyfriend, but he was never yours. What did Billy ever let you do besides suck his dick?"

        Stu's badass expression faltered; his face crumpled for a moment as he cringed.

        "Does he ever suck yours, Stu? Does he even let you kiss him?"

        The features of Stu's face began to twitch in anger and hurt. "Shut up," he hissed.

        "Does it kill you to think that you've been here for, what, years? And some hotshot from out of town blows in and steals Billy away from you in only two months?"

        Stu suddenly exploded, eyes and mouth wide open. _"I'VE BEEN GUARDING MY GATE FOR A LONG TIME, BITCH!"_

        Dean barely flinched. " _A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 4: The Dream Master_ ," he said with a grin, identifying where Stu's quote came from.

        "No, it was part three," he corrected, spitting vitriol and breathing hard.

        Dean shook his head. "Check it. It was part four." He simply turned and started to walk away.

        "If you don't do what I say, I don't have to just go after you," Stu called. When Dean's stride began to slow down, he continued, "You've got a little brother, right? I bet you - "

        Dropping his backpack, Dean turned and rushed at Stu, grabbing him by the shirt. In less than four seconds, he had Stu slammed up against the outer wall of the school and was in his face. "You come anywhere near my brother and I'll kill you, do you understand me? I won't be the only one. You don't want to meet my dad or any of his friends either. _Trust me_."

        A satisfied little grin came to Stu's face. Even if he didn't mean his threat, he had gotten under Dean's skin, and that was enough for him. "You can only kill me once, Winchester."

        Dean let him go. He grabbed up his backpack and started to walk away. "Billy can make his own decisions on who he wants to be with," he said, and left Stu standing there, just staring at him as he made his way across the parking lot.


	8. The Serpent and the Rainbow

Chapter 8: The Serpent and the Rainbow

 **Chapters:** 8 of 15 (2,934 words this part)

  
        "Did that make you feel weird, knowing that you fought for Billy?" Paul asked.

        With a small laugh, Dean nodded. "Very weird. But Stu backed me into a corner. I came out swinging." He thought about what he'd just said for a moment. "That's not entirely true, that it was all a dick-waving contest. I just didn't want him to have Billy."

        "Was Billy aware of all this?"

        "He never said anything about it to me, but I wouldn't be surprised if he knew. Stu was such a loudmouth. I'm sure he whined over my presence in Billy's life anytime he could."

        Paul didn't think that this rivalry with Stu could possibly turn out good, but really, didn't he already know the ending to this story? "What happened next?"

        "Have you ever heard of a movie director named Roman Bridger?" Dean asked.

        "Uhhh... name's a little familiar... didn't he rape a 13-year-old or something?"

        "No, that's Roman Polanski. Roman Bridger murdered a bunch of people, in 2000."

        Taken aback, Paul's eyes widened, and he scoffed. "That name doesn't have a good track record for directors."

        "Guess not."

        "What do you mean he murdered a bunch of people?"

        "I'll get to that. What's important now is that he came to Woodsboro High under the pretense that he was looking for a high school kid to star in a horror movie. The school let them film a scene in the courtyard, and that same day, he was talking to some of the kids during lunch and stuff, looking for new talent," Dean explained. "In reality, Billy was the only kid he wanted to talk to."

        "Why?"

        Dean paused, thinking, remembering. "This was probably the most pivotal moment in Billy's downward spiral. I'm going to have to retell this part of the story when Sam and the others get back, only with, uh, some of the details left out, if you get me."

        "I do." Paul leaned toward him. "Is this a common occurrence in California, movie studios coming to high schools to shoot scenes?"

        Dean laughed. "It is around Los Angeles."

*****

        Billy leaned on Dean's shoulder, popping a grape into his own mouth. "You oughta be in pictures," he said quietly, and chuckled.

        Dean looked over at the film crew van that was parked at the curb nearby. He and Billy had a rare moment alone, sitting on the edge of the fountain in front of the school during lunch. Some men were putting a movie camera on a tripod while the film director, Roman Bridger, supervised the project. "Maybe it should be you. That director keeps looking at you."

        Billy glanced at Roman, then back at Dean. "How can you tell? We're both over here."

        "I just know." Dean eyed the man carefully. He was looking at Billy like he knew him, not like a director sizing up a possible actor for his role. "I don't like the way he's looking at you."

        Billy chuckled again. "You're so jealous."

        Annoyed, Dean replied in an irritated tone, "No, I don't mean that. I mean he's looking at you like he recognizes you."

        "The guy went through the most recent yearbook, Dean. He's trying to find his next star." Billy, with a roll of his eyes, swung his leg over the edge of the fountain so he was sitting fully forward and took two large bites out of his sandwich.

        Dean still glared daggers at Roman Bridger. "I don't like it." Something inside told him the look Bridger was giving Billy had nothing to do with his movie. When the man suddenly motioned for Billy to come over, Dean's stomach turned in his gut.

        "Hey, he wants to talk to me. I'm gonna be in the movies!" Billy laughed, and trotted away.

        Dean kept himself from reaching out and grabbing Billy, stopping him from going over there. Bridger wanted something from him, he wanted to molest him, he was a chicken hawk, something. Something felt wrong about this. The man never smiled at Billy. If he wanted Billy to be in his movie, why wouldn't he smile at him, be friendly? Bridger's mouth was as tight as Dean's stomach felt.

        He watched Bridger and Billy talk, Billy all smiles and enthusiasm, Bridger guarded and succinct. Dean sighed. This would be a dream come true for Billy; of course he was excited. What would Billy like more than being in a horror movie? Bridger handed the teen a business card, patted him on the shoulder, and sent him on his way. Billy jogged back over to Dean.

        "He wants me to call him!" he said, sounding even more chipper than he already seemed. "I'm supposed to go down to his studio tonight and read for a part! Says I look like a natural. Can you believe that?" Billy looked at the business card, turned it over in his hands. "What if I actually get it?"

        Dean tried not to openly show his uneasiness. "Come by my house after the audition, okay? I want to hear all about it."

        "Audition. That's what it is, isn't it?" Billy grinned down at the card one more time before putting it in his pocket. "I could be in a _movie_. This is so cool."

        "What is?" Randy put his lunch down on the edge of the fountain and took a seat.

        "Roman Bridger wants Billy to audition for his movie," explained Dean.

        Billy grunted, stomping his foot. "You gonna let me tell anybody?"

        "Huh? You?"

        Reaching over and swatting at Randy's head, Billy huffed, "Yes, me."

        "You're too damn pretty to be in a horror movie. Why doesn't he ask me? I saw his last film five times." Randy shook his head, unpacking his food. "Watch out for that casting couch, Billy. The guy just wants some free tail."

        Taking the chance that Randy left open for him, Dean added, "Yeah, take a weapon with you. A knife or something. You can hide it under your pant leg, like this." He demonstrated how Billy could stick a knife just inside his shoe and conceal it under the leg of his jeans.

        Billy looked at them both and then rolled his eyes. "You two are a couple of wusses. He doesn't want to fuck me; it's a real audition."

        "Uh huh." Randy dug into his sub sandwich, ignoring Billy, letting the sarcasm in his tone speak for itself. "Oh, Mom, thank you! Sourdough bread." He spoke to Dean. "She knows I love sourdough bread."

        Billy picked a grape out of its plastic bag and pegged it at Randy's head. "Screw you, man. You just wish it was you." Shaking his head, he added, "Too pretty to be in a horror movie. Huh. Johnny Depp's first movie was _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. You gonna tell me he's not a pretty boy?"

        "So you're the next Johnny Depp?" Randy laughed.

        "Maybe."

        "It's a real audition." Dean didn't really believe that, but Billy wasn't going to listen to him unless he acted like he did. "But take a knife anyway, okay?" He looked up at Billy pleadingly. "Just in case."

        Shrugging, Billy sat back down. "Okay."

        The others were too involved in their lunches to notice, but Dean didn't take his eyes off Roman Bridger.

        Bridger continued to look at Billy with that same tight expression until he and his crew got in the van and drove away.

*****

        "I wanted to be wrong, Paul," Dean was saying, shaking his head. "I wanted so bad to be wrong."

        "What happened? Did Roman Bridger do something to him?" Paul asked.

        "Not exactly..."

*****

        There had been many nights when Dean welcomed having his dad home, even kind of liked it as he and Sam sat at the table and John brought out some weird half-edible concoction for their dinner.

        As he went to his window and saw Billy standing there, panting with anger, a Bowie knife clutched tightly in his fist, he was glad this was not one of those nights.

        "I knew it." Dean helped Billy in the window. "Bridger did something to you, didn't he?"

        "Is anyone else here?" Billy asked, more hissing out the words than speaking them.

        "No, Dad took Sammy to a friend's house. No one's supposed to be home for a couple more hours. Are you okay?"

        Billy began to pace back and forth across Dean's room. "That _bastard_. How could he do this to her?" Much to Dean's shock, Billy swung the knife, slicing through the empty air. Dean jumped back out of reflex. "She's been nothing but faithful to him!" He cut the air again, three times in a row, swinging the knife quick enough to make noise. _Swoosh, swoop, swoosh._

        "Billy, what are you talking about?"

        Billy looked at him, and Dean realized then that he was crying. Tears were just beginning to roll down his red, angry, hurt face. "You were right. Bridger didn't want to audition me for his film."

        "I'll kill 'im! What'd he do?"

        "He showed me a movie he'd made."

        Taken aback, Dean paused before speaking again. "Was it a porno?"

        "No!" Billy was so upset, his patience had worn thin, his tone short. "It was my dad meeting with some _whore_ for sex."

        If Dean had been surprised before... "He _what?_ "

        "Bridger's been following this woman around, filming her. She pissed him off somehow. The woman's a fucking whore, man. She's screwing half the town. Doesn't even get paid for it, just goes around breaking up homes for who knows what reason." As he spoke, Billy gestured with the knife, waving it around and pointing it to accentuate his words. "Bridger's got her on tape meeting with my father at a hotel. Standing outside the room making out and shit."

        "Bridger's got nothing from inside these hotel rooms, then?"

        "No, but what does that matter? You don't think they were meeting for a conference or something, do you?!"

        "Billy, calm down. You're right, they're having an affair." Dean scratched his head, feeling sheepish. "I was just curious how far Bridger was willing to go." He moved a little closer to Billy, reaching out to touch him. "I can't imagine how you must feel, Billy. If my dad had cheated on my mom..."

        The other boy pushed away from him, not wanting to be touched just yet. "I don't know what to do with myself. I'm just so _angry_." Pacing again, Billy passed the knife from hand to hand. "When my mom finds out, she's going to be really hurt. She's been a good wife... certainly doesn't deserve this. She might even leave." Billy looked at Dean helplessly. "Her family's in Ohio. What if she moves back home? I may never see you again."

        At the time, Dean thought it made just as much sense as Billy did that if Mrs. Loomis left town, she'd take Billy with her. He didn't like the thought of that. "She won't do that. Your mom can just make her own home here. Or maybe she'll stay with your dad. You know, forgive him."

        "How can she forgive him? He's fucking some other woman!" He was panting now, hissing breaths through his teeth. "How could he DO that?!" Too upset to control his own behavior, Billy swung the knife in a quick, sharp arc; the motion of the weapon would have sliced right across Dean's stomach if he hadn't jerked his midriff back in a quick-witted instinctual move. John's training often paid off.

        But, as Dean looked down, the _swoosh_ of the knife barely dead in his ears, he noticed the rip across the midriff of his shirt. A neat little line through which he could put his hand. "Billy, look what you did," he said in shock. Now he did stick his hand through the hole. "You could have killed me."

        "I wish I could kill _them_ ," Billy responded. The fact that he had almost accidentally cut Dean seemed to get lost in his clouded comprehension of the world at that moment. "My dad and that Prescott slut."

        Dread seeped into Dean's bones. "Prescott? Maureen Prescott?"

        "Yeah..." Eyeing him suspiciously, Billy shifted his hold on the knife. "How did you know that?"

        "Uh... my dad is friends with her husband."

        "That poor dope. You think he even knows? They've got a daughter and everything. Some girl named Sidney. Goes to another school." Billy moved a little closer. "Can you believe good ol' Maureen would do that to her family? Fuck _every_ guy in town?" Closer. "Is she fucking your dad, Dean?"

        Shocked, Dean backed away a step. "No. No! How can you even ask me that?"

        "Does he know she's cheating on her husband?"

        "No. My dad hasn't even met her."

        "Then how did you know her name?" Closer.

        Dean carefully looked Billy over. "You need to calm down. The guy's been in my house a few times; he mentioned his wife."

        Billy did not calm down. "Any guy who would fuck his friend's wife isn't a good guy."

        Now Dean was getting mad. "My dad wouldn't do that. He doesn't even like brunettes anyway; he prefers blondes."

        "Well, gentlemen prefer blondes, right?"

        Backed into the wall, Dean put up his hands defensively. "You're barking up the wrong tree."

        Billy suddenly exploded. He shoved Dean into the wall. "You knew, right?! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

        "I didn't know a thing, Billy! My dad's not fucking Maureen Prescott and I didn't know your dad was cheating, now CALM DOWN!"

        "No, your dad just _happens_ to know Neil Prescott."

        "Exactly! That's exactly how it is."

        Billy glared at him for a moment before slamming Dean back against the wall and kissing him hard, too hard. His leg worked between Dean's knees, pushing them apart, and Billy was rubbing against him hard enough to hurt. "You're a liar."

        "Owww, Billy, that hurts." Dean realized the knife was against his throat.

        "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get that Prescott bitch. I'm gonna rip your father's whore apart, gut her and strew her insides all over the town." He was kissing Dean's throat, nipping and biting as well.

        "She's not my father's whore!" Dean grabbed Billy's wrist and yanked it down, twisted him around, and pried the weapon out of his hand. Billy laughed, although it did surprise him. Dean tossed the knife across the room. "Billy, I know you're upset, but you're wrong about my dad, and me. Come on... man, you gotta chill out."

        Grinning dangerously, Billy came at Dean again. "The thought of gutting that bitch turns me on, Dean. You want to see how much?"

        Dean tried to grab Billy's hands when he reached for him. They briefly grappled against the wall before Dean pushed the other boy away. Billy shoved Dean hard onto the bed, which Dean knew he did on purpose, but he wasn't about to give in when Billy was so angry. They wrestled for dominance, Billy on top.

        "How do you feel about her, Dean? Does she steal all your father's attention away? Is that why he's never home?" he said, grunting it out while trying to force Dean's arms down. "You could help me kill 'er. We could do it together."

        Dean got an arm free and punched Billy in the nose. With a grunt of pain, Billy fell over on the bed with his hands to his nose, which was bleeding.

        Dean, getting off the bed, headed for his bathroom. "Don't move. Just stay down. I'll get you a wet rag."

        It took Dean a minute to find a rag and wet it down, then wring it out. When he came back to his room with the damp rag, Billy was sitting on the bed with the knife in his hand. Blood dotted the area from his nose to his top lip, but he didn't seem to notice it anymore. Billy had cut a shallow line down a small portion of his forearm. He was holding the arm up and watching the blood run to his elbow in a thin rivulet. "Have you ever noticed that blood is the perfect color?" Billy was mesmerized, just watching. "Scarlet. It's a beautiful shade of scarlet."

        Horrified, Dean slowly took a seat on the bed, reached out, and took the knife from Billy. He didn't seem to notice. Dean simply wrapped the rag around Billy's arm and rubbed the blood off, keeping pressure on the part that was cut. "Billy..." He gently cupped Billy's cheek.

        Like a rag doll, Billy seemed to have no will, allowing Dean to act on him, lowering his arm. Then out of nowhere, he began to sob. "I don't want them to get divorced, Dean. I don't want everything to change."

        Dean could have laughed at how simple and childlike Billy's wish was, how he just didn't want his life turned upside down, but he didn't want Billy to think he was laughing at him; rather, the reaction would be due to his disbelief over the whole crazy encounter. "I know you don't. Nobody wants their life to be fucked over." Since the rag was already in use, Dean used his ruined shirt to wipe at the blood under Billy's nose. Then he hugged the other boy to him and let him cry.

        "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry I attacked you. I'm sorry I almost cut you."

        "It's okay, just forget it."

        They kissed, and then Dean held him as long as he felt he needed it.


	9. The Hills Have Eyes

**Chapter 9: The Hills Have Eyes**

 **Chapters:** 9 of 15 (5,297 words this part)

  
        "Billy didn't come over for a couple of weeks after that," Dean told Paul. He shook his head at the memory. "We didn't talk as much at school. Then, one night, Billy just showed up at my window and slipped into bed with me. We didn't do anything that night, just held each other and stuff. That's when I realized that I wanted to do anything I could to help him through this. But there were so many things I didn't know."

        "About Bridger, right? About why he was making these films? Why he told Billy what was going on?" asked Paul.

        "Yeah. You knew there had to be more to that." Before continuing, Dean let out a sigh. "Roman Bridger was Maureen Prescott's illegitimate child."

        Such a thing was personal to Paul, being that he was probably unplanned himself. He rested his chin on his clasped fists. "Wow."

        "From what the newspapers said, Bridger went to her, looking for her approval and love, and she rejected him. Said that he was a relic of her old life and she just wanted to put that behind her. Bridger decided to kill her out of revenge, but he didn't want to get caught, so he found someone else to do it for him."

        "Billy."

        Dean nodded. "Yeah. He showed Billy the film to get him angry, then he started to coach him... on how to get away with murder."

        "Oh my God."

        "I had no idea." Dean shook his head. "I mean, who could have known?"

        "I can understand how Bridger felt, but to have someone killed over such a thing... he must've lost his mind. You said you read about this in the paper?" Paul asked.

        "Yeah, after Bridger decided he wanted to get into the action of his little movie and not just pull the strings from behind the scenes anymore. Ya see, Sidney Prescott was his half-sister, and she was the favored child, the one who got to be raised by Mommy. He wanted her to die too. But Billy and Stu failed there. Sidney killed them both in self-defense," explained Dean. "The girl's resourceful. An excellent shot. I don't know if she's aware that her dad's a hunter, but I wouldn't be surprised if he taught her a thing or two.

        "When Sidney survived the massacre, Bridger decided to eventually go after her himself. He killed a few more along the way. But Sidney, again, made it out alive."

        Paul huffed, shaking his head too. "This is one involved story. So many twists and turns."

        "Yeah, and I'm getting ahead of myself. Bridger and Billy's first meeting was in early March. Sammy was turning twelve in May, so I started plotting to get him something special."

        "Hey, my birthday's in May too. The 23rd," Paul chuckled. "What about Sam?"

        "May 2nd. So your birthday is coming up, huh? I'll just have to plan something special for you too," Dean said with a wink.

        "Uh oh. I'm in trouble." They shared a moment, grinning at each other. "So what'd you do to Sam?"

        "Got him a chemistry set. And a girl."

        "What?"

        Dean just snickered. "There was this younger girl, fifteen at the time, I think, named Tatum. She wasn't doing so well in Geometry. I heard her bitching about it so I offered to have Sammy tutor her as long as she, ah, gave him a little education in girls." Seeing the alarmed look on Paul's face, he put up his hands defensively. "Nothing hardcore, just harmless stuff. He was at the right age, you know?"

        Now Paul was laughing. "You are something else, you know that? Does Sam know you set this up?"

        "Nah." For a few moments, Dean became lost in thought. He remembered Tatum sitting at the stone table outside, in the shade, cussing at her Geometry book.

         _"Fuck, why do you have to be so hard?!"_

 _Such a comment turned Dean's head. The blonde girl slammed a hand down on the open book, almost breaking her pencil when she tossed it against the table. It bounced and rolled to the ground, landing in the grass. Sammy seemed to like blonde girls._

 _"Hey." Dean came over, put his foot up on the stone bench and leaned on his knee. "You're Tatum, right?"_

 _"Yeah...?" Suddenly, recognition came into her eyes. "I've seen you at Billy Loomis's parties, haven't I?"_

 _"Uh huh."_

 _"You guys are friends with Stu Macher."_

 _Dean made a face of disgust. "Unfortunately."_

 _"Aw, come on. He's cool."_

 _"If you say so."_

        Paul saw the solemn look on Dean's face. He slipped a hand on Dean's knee. "Can I?"

        Dean just nodded, and Paul was there. He could see teenage Dean talking to a girl at school around an outdoor table.

         _"You need tutoring? You seem to be having some trouble." Dean pointed at the Geometry book._

 _"God, yes. This stuff is Satanic." Tatum grinned. "You mean Stu, right? Stu wants to tutor me?"_

 _Dean made that scrunched up, disgusted face again. "No way. He's so dumb he couldn't count to twenty-one without getting naked." He shook off a full-body shudder. "Why am I talking about Stu and nakedness in the same sentence...?"_

 _"Sounds good," Tatum commented with a snicker._

 _"Ewwww. Stop it. I just ate."_

 _She tried to defend her stance. "He's really funny."_

 _"Funny looking and funny smelling."_

 _"Stop it, now. Really." Tatum giggled and looked up at him hopefully._

 _Dean realized this wasn't the answer she wanted, but he barreled ahead anyway. "No, I didn't mean Stu would be tutoring you. I meant, um... my little brother."_

 _"Oh." Tatum leaned back, her body language showing what she thought of that. "How old is he, fifteen? Fourteen?"_

 _"Um... he'll be twelve in a month."_

 _Her mouth hanging open in offense, Tatum started to gather her things. "Nice joke, Williams. Ha ha."_

 _"It's Winchester, actually, and I was serious." He put a hand on her open Geometry book and held it down, to keep her from picking it up. Tatum acted like she was going to slam it closed on his hand, so he grabbed the other side of the book to stop her from doing it. "Would you just calm down? My brother's really smart, okay? I mean scary smart. But he's not very experienced with girls and I don't want him to turn into a social retard or something."_

 _Tatum gave him that offended look again, mouth open and brow furrowed. "What the hell do you expect me to - "_

 _"No! No, nothing like that." Dean, unable to help it, had to laugh. "I just thought maybe you could talk to him about girls, hug him sometimes, give him a little cleavage now and then. Bolster his confidence a bit. Sammy spends all his time with the geeks in the Science Club. He wouldn't know what to do with a girl if one laid across his bed buck naked."_

 _"And what do I get out of this?"_

 _Dean seemed confused. "You get better grades in Geometry."_

 _"And?"_

 _"And..." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll put in a good word for you with Stu."_

 _Bouncing gleefully, Tatum let out a squeal of triumph. "You've got yourself a deal."_

        Paul was about to release himself from the clairvoyant link, but the memory in Dean's mind's eye shifted. He gripped Dean's knee lightly again.

         _Standing around the corner, Dean listened to what was going on during Sammy's latest tutoring session with Tatum. Dean made sure that they had a session on Sam's birthday, hoping she'd at least give him a kiss to make things extra special. Ever since the tutoring had started, Sammy hadn't been able to stop talking about how much he liked it, looked forward to it, probably fantasized about it. He made out like it was all about teaching, how rewarding it was to help someone learn something, but Dean knew it was at least half about the low-cut shirts Tatum wore to the tutoring sessions._

 _Dean wondered if he should do the big brother thing for a moment, after the sounds he was hearing, but it was really all very innocent. Sammy was ready for this. Tatum made a small moan, obviously playing it up (obvious to Dean, anyway), and then there were more kissing sounds. When their lips parted, Sam made a little "Meep"-like noise._

 _"Mm, you're a really good kisser, Sam," Tatum said, all breathy._

 _Dean mouthed, "Oh yeah," and gave Sam a thumbs up from the other side of the wall._

 _"I have to go. Um, hands off."_

 _Sammy sounded embarrassed when he replied, "Oh, sorry." His voice cracked a little._

 _Dean stifled a chuckle._

 _There were sounds of books being gathered, then Tatum leaned over and gave Sam one more small kiss. "You're going to be a heartbreaker some day, Sammy. Enjoy your birthday."_

 _When Dean heard the front door close, he came out. Sam didn't know he was there, so when he turned around and saw someone standing behind him, Sam gasped, his entire body jerking, and put a hand to his heart. "Don't do that."_

 _"How'd it go, you little heartbreaker?"_

 _Glaring at him, Sam walked past his brother and began to clean his study materials off the table. "Were you eavesdropping?"_

 _"No, I just heard that one last thing before Tatum left," Dean lied. "So... what happened? Did I hear her kiss you?"_

 _Shy, embarrassed, Sam cringed in on himself, not looking up. "Yeah..."_

 _Dean hopped up on the table and took a seat. "What else? Did Tatum do anything special for your birthday?"_

 _Sam rolled his eyes._

 _"Come on, you can tell me," he added, using the soothing big brother tone he used when Sam needed to be coddled._

 _"Ummm... she uh, she... was talking about what girls like, 'cause I asked her something, you know, about it, and she... Tatum goes, she said it would be easier if she showed me something, so she kinda kissed me more than once... and stuff..."_

 _"You guys totally made out!"_

 _Sam desperately tried to shush him. "Don't be so loud!"_

 _"Dad's not here. He won't be home 'til dinner time." Dean continued to chuckle, unable to stop. "Woohoo, Sammy, you got to first base on your twelfth birthday. How does it feel?"_

 _A little smile crept around the corners of Sam's mouth. "Pretty good."_

 _"A kiss and... under the shirt?"_

 _"No!"_

 _Dean put his hands in front of his chest like he was cupping a girl's breasts. "She let you feel her up, didn't she?"_

 _"God, Dean, how can you ask me stuff like that?!" Sam hastily gathered up his schoolbooks._

 _He imitated Tatum's voice, rubbing at his chest through his shirt. "Oh, Sammy... that feels good."_

 _"You're such a pervert." His cheeks bright red, Sam hurried off to his room._

 _Dean, grinning mischievously, called, "Just make sure you wash your hands after you're done beating off! Dinner's in an hour!"_

        Paul couldn't help but laugh at Dean's audacity as he released his hold on Dean's mind. "You're such a big brother."

        Although he didn't feel it, Dean tried to laugh too. "It was a big deal. I never thought Tatum would actually make out with him like that, but she told me later she was just feeling it that day. Pretty funny, huh?" He let out a small laugh, but quickly fell solemn again.

        "Dean, what is it?" Paul asked, his hand going to Dean's back.

        "It wasn't for a while, but Tatum eventually got Stu's attention. They were a couple for about a year. I still don't understand why..."

        "Why what?" Paul rubbed his back.

        "When Billy and Stu went on their killing spree, Tatum was among the people they murdered."

*****

        Paul decided to put on a shirt and get himself some more coffee before Dean continued his story. He handed Dean a Coke and sat back down. "I bet Sam took it hard."

        "Yeah. Tatum was the first girl he ever really kissed," Dean said with a sigh. "Anyway, we were at Sam's birthday... um, about a month later, school let out. Our dad shipped us off to Torrance to spend the summer with the Nakamuras."

        "Who?"

        "Raidan Nakamura. He's a hunter from Torrance, California. Has a furniture business and runs a dojo on the side. Pretty traditional Japanese man. He lives there with his daughter and one of her cousins, and his mother."

        "Why did your father send you there?"

        His eyes shifting, Dean uttered, "Umm..."

         _Sam banged on the bathroom door once more. "Dean, I gotta go! Are you ever coming out?"_

 _"Goddamn it, Sammy, use your own bathroom!"_

 _"Bobby's in there! What's taking you so long?"_

 _Dean, letting out a cry, groaned out, "God, it BURNS!"_

 _"I'm telling Dad that it burns when you piss!"_

 _"You do and I'll kick your balls so far up into your body you'll taste your pubes for a - "_

 _"Dean, what's going on?" John's voice asked from the other side of the door._

 _"Crap..."_

 _The doctor visit had been most unpleasant, but not as unpleasant as the talk Dean had gotten afterward. "Chlamydia, Dean? Chlamydia? How could you go out and catch yourself an STD? Don't you have any sense?"_

 _Dean shrugged under his father's steely glare._

 _"What do I tell you?"_

 _Sighing, he recited, "If I'm going to be sexually active, always use a condom."_

 _"Right. Well, you're not going to cat around with your friends all summer, that's for sure. You and Sammy are spending the summer in Torrance."_

        When he saw Paul reaching for his knee, Dean pushed the hand away. Paul blinked in confusion. "Naughty naughty," Dean said, and cleared his throat self-consciously.

        "I'm sorry..." offered Paul. "I shouldn't just assume that it's okay. It's just that, it's a pretty new ability to me, and I'm anxious to use it..."

        "There's nothing to see in this case. Nothing at all."

        Narrowing his eyes at Dean, Paul asked, "Why are you embarrassed?"

        "I'm not."

        "Yeah you are - "

        Dean cut in quickly before he could say anymore. "Our dad just wanted us to learn some martial arts, that's all. Hone our fighting skills. Besides, he needed us out of his hair so he could plan everything with the other hunters."

        Although he could feel that there was more to the story, Paul dropped it. "Okay. Did you have a good time, at least?"

        "Actually, yeah, we did. Nakamura-san had a couple of kids our age, they live close to the beach, and we each learned some new, kickass skills. Helped them put a koi pond in the backyard and everything. Sam and I had a blast. Which..." Dean frowned. "...kinda made me feel guilty at times."

        "Because you left Billy behind."

        "Yeah. Bridget spent the summer in northern California, working as a cheerleading camp counselor. I didn't even know they had camps for that." Dean let out a little laugh. "Her parents didn't want her hanging around Billy and me all summer. So Billy was left alone with his fucked up feelings... and Stu." Taking a few seconds to chew on a nail, Dean finally added, "That's when it really all started. Billy's plot."

        Paul placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. Lots of kids go off on trips for the summer. You couldn't have - "

        "If I'd been there for him, maybe I could have turned him around. It was just a divorce; lots of kids have divorced parents. How could I have known he'd take it so far?"

        "Billy's parents got divorced?"

        Dean nodded. "Mrs. Loomis found out about the affair and threatened to divorce him. They tried to work it out for about a month, but ultimately... it wasn't long after I got back from Torrance..."

*****

        "Now boys, I know you've only been home for a short time," John began as he entered his house and tossed his keys on an endtable, "but we're going to get right down to work."

        Dean and Sam placed their knapsacks on the floor just inside the door. "Sure, Dad."

        "While you were gone, myself and the other hunters began formulating a plan. There are several things we need to fill you in on, so if you'll park yourselves at the table..." John turned around to find only Sam standing in the foyer. "Where's your brother?"

        "Um... he's really anxious to check in on his friends," Sam replied, fidgeting with how awkward this was.

        "What? That can wait." John heard the Impala roar to life. "Dean! You get your ass back in here!"

        By the time he got outside, Dean was already taking off down the street. John slapped the edge of the doorjamb. "That kid... apparently he didn't learn a thing about obedience in Torrance."

        Dean knew he would be in deep trouble when he went back home, but he couldn't just sit in that house and listen to his father prattle on about The Plan when Billy had been left to his own devices for three months. Last time he saw Billy, he was dejectedly waving at John's truck as John drove him and Sammy away to Torrance. John wanted his boys to concentrate on their training, so he hadn't allowed Billy to visit Dean in Torrance, nor Dean to visit Billy, even though it wasn't that far.

        It was John's insistence on keeping them away from each other all summer that forced Dean to defy his father, he thought. He had a right to be worried about his friend, after all Billy had been going through last time Dean saw him.

        When Dean pulled up in front of the Loomis home and stepped out into the cool night air, he realized he could hear Billy's parents yelling at each other from the street. Granted, the front window was open, but still, they were really going at it. He wondered if Billy was home, listening to that. Mrs. Loomis was crying.

        Shit, she'd found out about the affair.

        Dean approached the house cautiously. The closer he got, the more he noticed a steady thumping sound coming from the side of the house. Squinting into the darkness, Dean thought he could see movement in that area.

        He found Billy sitting on the ground beside the chimney, his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. To Dean's horror, Billy was thumping the back of his head against the house and chanting to himself, "I don't hear them, I don't hear them, I don't hear them..."

        "Billy?" Dean said, touching his arm. The concern he was feeling came through in his voice.

        He opened his eyes, visibly shocked at the voice he was hearing. "Dean? Dean, are you really back?"

        "Yeah, I just got here. I rushed right over to check on you. What are you doing; stop hurting yourself." Dean put a hand to the back of Billy's head. He winced. Dean's hand came away with spots of blood. "Jesus Christ, Billy."

        "They're fighting again."

        "I can hear that." He didn't have anything on hand to tend to Billy's head. "Come with me, okay? We'll go to my house."

        Billy seemed to be in a trance. "They're getting divorced, Dean. I know they are. It's just a matter of time." He sounded like he'd been crying.

        "Billy, I'm sorry. I know you're taking this hard." Dean tried to get him to stand. Billy was dead weight. "Come on, man. Let's go. No use hanging around here while they're arguing."

        "Dean, they're going to get divorced and she'll take me away." He was more blubbering than speaking now, collapsing on the ground in tears as Dean was still trying to drag him to the car.

        Dean's eyes rolled up a little; a part of him wanted to think that Billy was being a drama queen about this and just kick him in the butt, but the part that loved him won out. He got down next to Billy, took him in his arms, and held him until he'd cried it out. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

        It took Billy a few minutes to calm down, where Dean could wipe his tears with the pads of his thumbs and give him their first kiss in months. "They're not going to separate us, no matter what happens. Okay? We'll figure something out."

        Billy nodded; his face lit up with hope.

        Less than ten minutes later, Dean walked in the front door of his house with Billy in tow. He'd found a dishtowel in his car to clean up Billy's head with, and he'd already stopped bleeding. But Dean wanted to watch over him for the night after the self-harming display.

        "Dean, come in here!" John roared before Dean had even had time to close the front door. He cringed, but still took Billy by the arm and pulled him along.

        Dean's eyes widened at all the people sitting around the table. "What the hell?"

        The look on John's face when he saw Billy wasn't happy. "This isn't a good time for your friend to visit, Dean. Can he walk home?"

        Dean didn't answer. He was staring at one of the men sitting at the table.

        Neil Prescott.

        He wondered if Billy knew what the man looked like. Before he could say anything, Neil's expression changed to one of recognition. "Oh, hey Billy."

        His eyes shifting about, Billy gave a little wave. "Hi Mr. Prescott."

        "You know this boy?" said John.

        "Yes. I didn't know he was friends with your son," Neil replied, making conversation.

        Dean had to know what was up with this shit, and now. "Dad, I'm sorry I left, but Billy's parents are going through some stuff and you wouldn't let him come visit us in Torrance, so I had to - "

        "You didn't _have_ to do anything but mind your father," John growled at him.

        Dean continued, swallowing down any hesitancy he felt. "I just thought it'd be better if he stayed here tonight since his parents are fighting."

        "Oh no. No way. After the way you've behaved - "

        With a long sigh, Bobby cut in, "Aw hell, John, just let the boy stay. He can wait in Dean's room. I'd like to get this show on the road if you don't mind."

        The others echoed that sentiment, nodding and crying, "Yeah!" They had been waiting for hours and they weren't about to wait anymore.

        "It's alright, John. The boy's okay," Neil added.

        John knew when he was outnumbered. He huffed out an irritated breath and turned to his son. "Alright, Billy can stay. But he goes right to your room and stays there while we have our meeting. You got that?"

        Grateful, Dean pushed Billy toward the hall.

        When he got Billy alone, Dean roughly sat him down on his bed and fixed him with a serious look. "Why does Neil Prescott know who you are?"

        Shrugging, Billy replied, "Bridget met his daughter at cheerleading camp. They've been back for almost a month and I've been hanging out with them."

        "Bridget just happened to make friends with Sidney Prescott."

        "Yeah...?"

        "Sidney Prescott, the daughter of the woman who's sleeping with your father."

        "Uh huh."

        "Billy, do you think I'm stupid?" Dean leaned over, eye to eye with him. "What are you doing?"

        He sighed. "Look, I know it seems suspicious, but I really didn't realize who she was until the girls invited me over to Sidney's house and I saw the pictures on the wall." Dean kept glaring at him, so Billy continued. "You saw the guy out there. Did Mr. Prescott react to me as if I've tried to take a chunk out of his wife's head or something?"

        Taking a deep, angry breath, Dean paced from one end of the room to the other. He came back and stood before Billy again. "I know you're upset. I also know that if you could, you probably would take a chunk out of Mrs. Prescott." Dean crouched before him. "Billy, you've gotta stop this. It isn't good for you."

        Billy just shrugged again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

        John rapped loudly on the door. "Dean! Get out here!"

        Gesturing to the door, Billy asked, "What's up with _you?_ I saw a lot of guns out there. Probably enough for each person and more."

        Now Dean just shrugged. "My dad's got a hunting club."

*****

        John glared at his son as he slumped into a chair at the table. "Now... we can get started."

        "Finally," a woman said. An amused snicker passed through the crowd.

        John, looking at her tiredly, attempted to continue. "Boys, these people have been here for a couple of days; I'm gathering an army to make a strike against the Chaos demons guarding Cypress Woods. We've spent that time getting a good picture of what these demons look like so we can tell them apart from regular wildlife. Soon, we'll be ready."

        He began to introduce everyone. "You already know Neil and Bobby."

        "Hi Uncle Bobby," Sam giggled.

        Bobby grinned. "Hi boys."

        "That's Bill and Ellen Harvelle."

        They offered a small wave. Dean, his face confused, looked at the little blonde girl sitting between them. Her pigtails bounced as she rubbed a rag over a shotgun on the table with much zeal. "And that's their daughter Jo."

        "The little girl's not going hunting with us, is she?" Dean mumbled.

        Ellen said, "No," at the same time that Bill said, "Yes." They looked at each other.

        "Bill, she's only ten," Ellen protested.

        "This probably isn't the best time to talk about this, Ellen..."

        Dean sat forward and nearly whined, "The little ten-year-old squirt gets to go on the hunt but you won't let _me_ go?!" to his father.

        "She's not going," John and Ellen said together.

        "Girl's gotta learn sometime," Bill said to himself.

        Ellen repeated, "Bill, she's TEN."

        Putting his first two fingers between his lips, Bobby whistled loud enough to get everyone's attention. Jo finally stopped polishing the gun and covered her ears. "Knock it off!" Bobby yelled.

        "Thank you," John said, rolling his eyes. "Dean, you may get to go, I haven't decided yet."

        Dean did a little dance of triumph in his seat.

        "Anyway... that's Drew and Kaitlyn Tripp." John indicated the last couple at the table, a man with dishwater blond hair and a slight bit of stubble, and a woman with long wine red hair. He adjusted the bill on his cap and lifted a hand in greeting, while she gave a nod.

        "Neil and I did some surveillance on these woods and have confirmed that the Chaos demons are Egyptian in origin. They're [avatars of Seth](sethavatar.jpg)."

        "The Egyptian god of Chaos," Sam added.

        "Yes, that's right. Very good Sam." John patted his shoulder. "This is a sketch of the demons. You'll see that they look a lot like coyotes, but there are significant differences." He passed the sketch around the table. "The cult will use any representation of Chaos they can to protect themselves. It's the nature of their worship. They just happened to choose Seth for this."

        Drew showed the drawing to his wife. "Look, the forked tail and the ears."

        She nodded.

        "Yeah, as you can see, they have a skinny tail that forks at the end and long ears that don't come to a point. Instead, they're blunt. And their snouts are more elongated than a normal canine," explained John.

        "What else do we know about them?" Ellen asked.

        Neil spoke up. "Their howl sounds like crazy laughter. But not human. It's just... very hard to describe."

        "You'll know it when you hear it," Drew added.

        "The main reason I brought Drew and Kaitlyn in is because they've hunted these things before," John told everyone. "I'm sure they can fill in more information." He sat on the corner of the table, turning the floor over to them.

        "There are a few things we need to go over. For one, never look an avatar of Seth in the eyes. Chaos represents the blackness of space, the nothingness of the vacuum. It is the opposite of order. If they get you, you'll see their eyes swim with colors inside a field of black. It will hypnotize you. And that's when another avatar will come at you from the back..." Drew stretched an arm across the table toward Jo, "...and rip your kidneys out." He balled the hand into a fist and abruptly pulled it back.

        Jo giggled. "Those are some weird-lookin' doggies."

        As he was examining the drawing of the avatar, Dean agreed, "You said it, kid."

        "You can kill them the normal way, with bullets. But you gotta be careful of their blood. It has the same properties as their eyes. Stare directly at it for more than a few seconds and you'll become hypnotized. Their blood is black," Drew said, and added, "so if you see black puddles in the woods, avoid 'em."

        "Neil and I have counted at least twelve of these avatars at once. Their packs are large, and dangerous. But as Drew said, they can be taken down by regular bullets," John said.

        "When you shoot 'em, try to avoid their eyes. Just shoot them in the head or heart," Kaitlyn instructed.

        "And try not to spill too much of their blood," said Drew.

        A little confused by these instructions, Ellen asked, "Why are we avoiding the eyes? Seems like if they can hypnotize people, it'd be a good idea to destroy them."

        "Because John promised we could harvest whatever parts we want," Kaitlyn answered, her tone bright and without shame. "The eyes are valuable."

        "So is the blood," Drew revealed.

        "A jar of that will set you up for a month, easy."

        "So you're profiteers," Bill spat, clearly disgusted with the idea. "John, how could you let them in on this?"

        "Because they know a lot about what we're fighting," said John, spoken as if he thought Bill should have known the answer to his own question. "What do I care if they want to collect a few things from the carcasses? It's their business."

        "I'm entirely against it."

        Kaitlyn leaned forward. "So look the other way."

        "We're not even going to fight about this..." Bobby began.

        "We gotta have some way to make a living when we're spending our time out here," Drew said, defending his way of life. "How do you make your money?"

        "Honestly," Ellen mumbled. Bill snickered.

        When he saw both Kaitlyn and Drew open their mouths to respond, John kicked the leg of the table, making the whole thing shake. It startled everyone enough to bring all attention back to him. "Let's not start a debate about making an honest living, alright? I could beat you all out in the _dishonest_ living department and you know it."

        The adults all laughed a little, but Dean and Sam remained quiet.

        "Let's just get this job done and leave the judgments to God."

        "Here, here."

        "No," Bobby started, and grinned. "Beer, beer."

        John burst out laughing.

        Chuckling hard, Bobby added, "Put the beer, beer here, here," and patted the table in front of him.

        Once the crowd had broken up into smaller groups, and were focusing their attention on drinking and enjoying themselves, Dean casually approached Neil Prescott with a question on his lips. "Hey Mr. Prescott."

        "Hi Dean." He crooked his thumb back at the hallway. "Don't you have a guest?"

        "Uh, yeah. I was just curious..." Dean wet his lips nervously. "How do you know Billy?"

        "Billy? Oh," Neil began, and then dropped the bomb. "...he's my daughter's boyfriend."


	10. Creepshow

**Chapter 10: Creepshow**

 **Chapters:** 10 of 15 (3,927 words this part)

  
        "My God..." Paul's mouth dropped open in shock. "...how did Billy explain that?"

        "Truthfully? He gave me a bit of a snow job. Said that Mr. Prescott just assumed he and Sidney were dating because Billy was around her so much. Some of his story sounded plausible... Mr. Prescott was always gone, so he didn't know his daughter very well anyway, how would he know who she was really dating, blah blah blah. I accepted his answer, but I was still suspicious."

        "You knew what he was really up to, didn't you? I mean, you had to know," Paul said in disbelief.

        "Yeah, I knew. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew." Pausing over the flood of memories coming back, Dean sighed before he continued. "Billy was getting close to Sidney so he could spy on her mother. At the time, I knew he was plotting something, but what could I do? Bridget told me she didn't even know Sidney Prescott, and even confronted with that news, Billy still maintained that he wasn't up to anything. What could I do? You try to be there for someone who doesn't want help, but desperately needs it..."

        Paul rubbed Dean's arm, seeing him lost in thought over those missed opportunities of his past. "You did everything you could."

        "No. No, I could have done a lot more."

        "Such as?"

        "Like warning Sidney what Billy was up to."

        "Do you think she would have believed you?" Paul asked, giving Dean a little shake. "What teenager wants to accept that their mom is cheating on their dad with multiple men?"

        "But I didn't even give her the chance. I didn't tell Mr. Prescott what I knew, either." His voice shook. "I was afraid everything would come out."

        Paul put his arm around Dean's shoulders and rested his head against his temple; they sat like that for a minute, not speaking. Dean finally began his story again. "Shortly after, Billy came to me one night and just climbed into bed. He seemed to want to cuddle and nothing more, but..."

*****

        Although he was still a bit angry with Billy for lying to him, Dean didn't refuse him when he climbed in his window a couple days after Dean came home from Torrance. Billy didn't say a word, just removed his clothes down to his underwear and climbed into bed with him, cuddling into Dean's chest. Dean put an arm around him. They were quiet.

        Breaking the silence, he said, "You're shaking."

        Billy didn't reply for so long that Dean thought he just wasn't going to say anything. Then he suddenly spoke. "My parents are getting divorced," he said in a low voice.

        "Aw, damn, Billy. I'm sorry." Dean held him closer. "Don't worry, man. We'll figure something out."

        "There's nothing to figure out." Billy's voice held a steady, unemotional tone, like he was just numb. "I'm not going anywhere."

        "Is your mom staying here?"

        "No."

        Looking at him in the dark, Dean questioned, "Then what?"

        "My mom is going back to Ohio to live with her parents for a while. She said I can't come."

        A shadow of dread passed over Dean's heart.

        Billy went on. "She wants a new start, and I can't be a part of it."

        "God, Billy. I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you wanted."

        Billy, shrugging, said, "She's a pain in the ass anyway. Aren't all moms a pain in the ass?" But his voice broke before he could finish the sentence, and he began to cry.

*****

        "I just held him and comforted him until he cried himself to sleep," Dean said, looking like he was going a bit numb himself.

        "Dean, I just can't imagine dealing with something like that at such a young age. You were a good boyfriend." Paul had already said this, but he felt it beared repeating. "You did everything you could."

        Dean knew what part of the story had to be told next, and he wasn't sure he could have Paul touching him for this. "Things just went downhill from there. Billy kept drawing those twisted, monstrous pictures, but they got worse and worse. He'd color them in with a red pencil. People with blood all over them. And then one night, he wanted to... he wanted to play what he called a game. At first, it seemed sort of kinky, but innocent. Then it got scary." Dean suddenly pushed away from him. "I'm sorry, Paul, I can't have you touching me for this. I thought I could handle anything, but what Billy wanted to play was so disturbing, I..." He was breathing heavier, moving down the couch and squeezing one of the cushions in his fingers.

        Although taken by surprise, Paul understood. "Of course. If you need me to keep my distance, I will. Tell me."

*****

        School started.

        Things regarding Billy really began to slip out of Dean's control then. It was a Saturday night during football season. Woodsboro had won their first game the night before, and Bridget was keyed up and half loaded; she was even wearing her cheerleading uniform again. Dean knew as soon as she leaned in his bedroom window that she was itching to play. "Your dad home?"

        "Naw, he and his hunting buddies are out celebrating a good kill."

        Now Billy was at the window, grinning, a bit tipsy himself. "What about Sam?"

        "He went with them." Dean found himself grinning too. It was good to see Billy acting like his old self.

        "Cool!" Bridget climbed in the window, but because she was half lit, she almost fell on Dean's footlocker and crushed it. As she began to laugh, struggling not to fall, Dean scooped her up and pulled her the rest of the way in the window. He carried her to the bed and plopped her down.

        Snickering, Billy came in after her.

        "We just came from a party," Bridget was explaining. Billy shut the window, still grinning. "Woodsboro won. Yaaaay Woodsboro, go team go!" she giggled.

        "I can see that." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean rubbed at her midriff, running his hand under her cheerleading top.

        She instantly responded. "Fuck me, Dean. I want both of you." Bridget sat up and kissed him, sloppy but with enthusiasm.

        Billy hopped onto the bed in a lying position. The bed bounced up and down, which made Bridget laugh again. He reached up and unzipped her top.

        A couple minutes later and no one was wearing a shirt, kisses being passed around like party favors. Bridget's bra was unhooked but still on, loosely. Dean, sharing dirty kisses with her, laid her back on the bed.

        "Let's play a game," Billy said in a wicked hiss.

        "What kind of game?" Dean asked between kisses.

        Billy leaned in close. "Bridget knows what kind of game."

        She rolled her eyes. "Billy, this isn't that abduction game again, is it? 'Cause I got all these leaves in my hair last time." She addressed Dean as if he knew what she was talking about. "They were a bitch to wash out."

        "Aw come on, Bridge..."

        Bridget mumbled, "You wash and wash and there's always a few left, stuck in your hair..."

        "I'll make sure you don't get laid right on the ground this time."

        Knitting his brow, Dean asked, "What's the abduction game?"

        "It's where we pretend we've abducted Bridget, and then we seduce her," Billy explained.

        "Oh, that sounds okay. But why would Bridget wind up on the ground?"

        She rolled her eyes again. "He gets _so_ into this."

        Dean didn't understand, but he went with it.

        "Peaches?" Billy said cryptically.

        Bridget nodded.

        "Okay." Taking off his belt, Billy handed it to Dean. "Tie 'er up."

        Dean saluted him. "Right." He took hold of Bridget's wrists.

        "No, no!" She came alive under his hands, struggling, but only enough for show. Dean crossed her wrists over each other and lashed them together with the belt, then wound the other end around a slat in his headboard to secure her there. She seemed to like that, her wrists and hands writhing inside the stiff leather.

        "Don't pretend you don't like it, you slut," Billy growled. He pointed to Bridget's kicking legs. "You get the bottom, I'll do the top." With that, Billy pushed her bra out of the way and began to suck on her tits, nipping enough to make her whine with need.

        Dean thought he _liked_ this game as he took hold of Bridget's wiggling knees, which were moving apart even as she continued to protest. "No, don't, don't put your dirty hands on me," she said, panting.

        He played along. "You know you want it," Dean said, and yanked down her cheerleading bottoms and her panties. Bridget panted in anticipation, watching him.

        At first, Dean fingered her, circling her clit with his fingers until she was dripping wet. Bridget made pretty moans and squirmed. He watched Billy for a minute, kissing up to her throat, before dipping his face between Bridget's legs to take several long, savoring licks.

        She quivered all over and cried out, breathing even harder. "Uh... oh... oh God... oh God... fuck me! Please, fuck me! Now! Do it now!"

        "So you're begging for it, bitch?" Billy grabbed Bridget's throat in a threatening manner. Surprised, Dean's head came up, and he watched with a confused expression.

        "Uh huh," she answered.

        "What a whore you are," hissed Billy. He unbuttoned his jeans.

        Dean wasn't sure where he was supposed to fit into this. "Billy, what...?"

        "Watch out," Billy said, and swung his leg over Bridget so he was straddling her. Dean was edged off to the side, where he sat and just watched with bewilderment. Now that Dean wasn't in the way, Billy took his cock out of his pants, roughly positioned himself between Bridget's legs, and laid on top of her.

        Well, Dean figured he could watch, anyway, and somewhere along the way one of them would give him some attention too. Billy shoved his hips upward and Bridget's legs spread further apart in kind; she moaned out loud.

        "Take it, bitch," he whispered, nipping at her throat. Dean noticed that he was fucking her much harder and rougher than usual. He watched Billy's ass move up and down and wished he had room to get in on the action. Still turned on and for lack of something to do, Dean rubbed Billy's back and behind. Billy seemed to like it, as he sometimes threw Dean a lustful look.

        They didn't last long. Dean could tell by the way Bridget had her face tucked into her upraised arm that she was nursing an orgasm, crying out random things like, "Yes! Yes! Ah! Don't stop!" And by the way Billy's movements were speeding up and his breath coming shorter, Dean thought he was on the verge of cumming too.

        That was when he got the surprise of his life.

        Billy suddenly took Bridget's neck in both of his hands and seemed to squeeze. Her eyes popped open; she looked at Billy in fear. Eyes wide, Dean sprang on him, gripping Billy's hands and pulling them off.

        "Dean! What are you doing?"

        "You were _choking_ her!"

        "It's just a game, Dean."

        He looked down at Bridget. Her eyes were open; she looked fine. "You shoulda told him what you were going to do."

        "What did you think 'Peaches' was? It's the safe word," Billy informed him, plainly annoyed.

        Dean looked at each of them as if they were crazy. "You're telling me you want to pretend to _kill_ her?"

        "Would you quit flappin' your lips; I'm right on the edge here," growled Billy, and tried to get back to what he'd been doing.

        This was insane. Dean understood wanting to put some drama into your sex, but the anxiety in his bones told him this wasn't just a game to Billy.

        It was _practice_.

        He watched Billy pretend to choke Bridget and her react with wide-eyed terror, struggling. Billy spent himself as he did this, eventually slowing his movements as he came inside her. Doing this got him off. Holy crap, pretending to _kill_ someone got him off.

        Or was it the thought of _really_ doing it that made Billy cum?

        Dean wanted to run from the room and throw up, but he had to monitor the game; he had to make sure it didn't get out of hand. Bridget's eyes were fluttering and her head lolling to one side, like she was really dying. "Are you okay? Bridget?" he asked desperately.

        She opened one eye and looked at him, winked, and then went back to pretending to be dead.

        Releasing her throat, Billy leaned back to catch his breath. He looked at Dean, his face glowing with satisfaction, mouth grinning wickedly. "We did it. We killed her."

        Dean groaned in disbelief.

        "We killed her _together_."

        "Fucking hell," Dean mumbled. He went to undo Bridget's bonds.

        Billy fixed his jeans, fumbling with himself as he tried to talk Dean into it. "It's just a game, Dean. Can't you play along?"

        "This is sick, Billy. You're only doing this because - " He realized as Bridget peeked at him that she may not know much about the affair and Billy's feelings toward Maureen Prescott. Maybe Billy didn't want her to know, only Dean. Heaven help him, that actually made him feel _special_ for a moment. Sick. That was sick.

        Seeing Dean's hands still on the belt, Billy jumped up and pulled him close, holding onto him like a desperate child. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. But please don't leave. I don't know why I like it, but it's not real. We're just acting."

        With a sigh, Dean patted Billy on the back, only able to hold him loosely. He felt his body going numb. "I'm not gonna leave. But this game is over, okay? That was too fucking weird."

        "But..."

        "What?" Dean snapped.

        Bridget used the most soothing and casual voice she could. "You guys haven't dumped the body yet."

        Leaves in her hair... _oh_. "Dump the body?" How many times did they play this game in the last month?

        "Dean, come on. I'm taking some acting classes this year," Bridget explained. "This is good practice."

        "Yeah." He glared at Billy. "But not just for you."

        Billy put on a bewildered expression.

        "Fine. Let's get this over with." Dean grabbed his shirt. "Where are we 'dumping the body'?"

        "You don't want me to take care of you first?" the other boy asked, making his voice sound as suggestive as possible.

        Dean shook his head. "I'm not in the mood now."

        She pretended to be limp while Dean put her bra back on. It was a rather convincing act, sent chills up his spine. Billy insisted on wrapping her up in the rug at the end of Dean's bed so no one would see her. As they carried Bridget out, Dean drew the line at putting her in the trunk, opting instead for the back seat. "You're face up, right?"

        Bridget's bonded hands came out of one end of the rug with a double thumbs up.

        Getting into the car and driving off down the street, Dean started to relax a bit; the most disturbing part of this game was done. Maybe. "So where are we going?"

        "We're dumping her in Cypress Woods."

        Dean swallowed hard. "No. There are coyotes there. It isn't safe."

        "Bridget and I have played this game in those woods at least three times. There aren't any coyotes."

        "Yeah, Dean, chill out," came Bridget's muffled reply from inside the rug.

        "Be quiet, you're dead," Billy told her.

        She whined, "It's hot in here," and pushed the flap that was folded over her open, letting her arms flop out. When Billy stared at her, she pretended to be dead again. At least now her face was uncovered.

        Dean hands shifted uneasily on the steering wheel. "If I didn't have a shotgun in the trunk, I'd turn this car right around."

        He parked on the edge of the woods, still uneasy, still wary. His dad and his friends had taken out a small pack of the Sethian avatars that week, and three more tonight, but there were more of them out there. "Don't move until I get my gun," Dean commanded, stepping out of the car.

        When he turned around with the gun in his hands, Billy was already gathering the rug bundle in his arms. Dean wished he could brain him with the butt of the gun for being so overanxious and not waiting in the car. Billy threw Bridget over his shoulder; her hands flopped out of one end of the rug, limp. Why did they have to be so enamored of this game, so reckless, like none of this was significant?

        As soon as Billy lowered her gently to the ground, Dean tapped his arm. "Okay, game's over. Get 'er and let's go."

        "Not so fast." He looked down at the Bridget bundle, savoring his work. Her hands lay limp in the leaves, still bound, her body an indistinct lump inside the rug. Billy didn't say anything. Anything he could say would not be well received. He leaned over to pull the rug open so he could study the unmoving body closer.

        From somewhere in the dark, a creature barked out a crazy laugh. It was the first time Dean had heard it. They were right, it was a hard-to-describe sound. Not quite human, not quite animal. The closest thing he could liken it to was a hyena.

        The rug abruptly sat up. "What the fuck was that?" Bridget's head popped out like the rug was a burrito coming apart.

        The cry of the avatar came again.

        Bridget scrambled out of the rug and ran for the car. "I don't know what the hell that is, but we're not sticking around to find out, are we?"

        "Fuck no." Dean snatched up his rug, shoving it into Billy's hands. "Billy, get in the car."

        The cry was coming closer.

        "What is it?" Billy asked.

        "Billy, get in the car!" Dean poked him with the shotgun.

        "God, what is that?! It sounds scary!" Fumbling with the door handle, Bridget tried to squeeze her hands out of the belt holding her wrists together. Dean came over and loosened the belt for her, then opened the back car door. Bridget scurried into the car and pulled the door closed behind her.

        When Billy didn't move, Dean attempted to throw an arm around his waist and carry him by force to the car. He managed to partially lift him off the ground, but Billy just hopped on one foot, pushing away from him. "Dean, _what is it?_ "

        Billy nodded his head toward the woods. Oh God, he was pointing at something, wasn't he? With alarm, Dean looked at the thing Billy was indicating.

        It was one of the avatars, just as his dad and Mr. Prescott had described. It bared a set of long, razor-sharp teeth. The avatar was still far enough away that they could make a run for the car, but every time it made that cry, it was calling more avatars to join the pack. If they didn't get out of there in a big hurry, they could soon be surrounded.

        "It's a coyote. Get in the fucking car."

        "That's no coyote, Dean." Billy stared at it in wonder.

        The avatar growled, taking a few short steps toward them. Stalking them.

        Her breath fogging up the window, Bridget watched, eyes wide and fearful. "Come on, let's go!" she screamed through the glass.

        As he raised his dad's Mossberg shotgun, Dean saw that the creature's eyes were all black; shades of purple and yellow seeped into the corners of its eyes, the prettiest colors he'd ever seen, all black and nothingness and so many colors seeping into its ey -

        Dean shook his head violently, shutting his eyes against the hypnotizing void of its eyes. When he looked at Billy, he realized the boy must have been drawn in, fixated on the avatar's unwavering gaze. Again, Dean aimed the gun and finally squeezed the trigger.

        The avatar's right eye exploded in a spray of black goo. It made a high-pitched groaning noise, tottered on its feet, and fell over; at the same time, Billy jerked suddenly as if he'd been startled, blinking, taken by surprise. Getting the thing in the eye was the best way, but Dean ventured that the Tripps would still be angry.

        "Holy shit, Dean," Billy exclaimed, just looking at him with his mouth slightly open.

        Dean pushed him toward the car. "Let's go. More will be coming."

        "How do you know that?"

        As if in answer, another one of those strange cries came from within the woods.

        "Go, goddamn it!"

        Billy finally did as Dean ordered, moving swiftly to the passenger side of the car. Dean slid into the driver's seat, made sure Billy was in, and took off down the dirt road.

        "There's another one!" Bridget said, peering out the back window.

        "Don't look at them!" Dean commanded. He was afraid she would become hypnotized by the avatars and jump out of the car; his father had warned against that.

        "What are they?!" she keened in a shaking voice.

        "Just don't look at them!"

        Dean drove them back to paved roads and didn't look back until they'd reached his home.

*****

        Billy had been full of questions. It seemed to him that Dean knew more about those strange creatures than he should. Dean had shrugged and said they must be some kind of mutation of a coyote, and that he hadn't liked how Billy had become hypnotized by the one animal, so that's why he told everyone to stop looking at them. Billy accepted the answer begrudgingly.

        That night, Dean had a nightmare that twisted the truth to suit his anxieties over Billy's troubling sex game. In the dream, Bridget was lying on the open rug in the middle of the dark woods, her wrists bound with the belt. Her eyes were closed, her bare stomach unmoving, her hands lying limp above her head in the orange and brown fall leaves. The avatar that had stalked them was stalking them again. It crept closer and closer, saliva dripping from its long, sharp teeth.

        "Bridget, get up! It's coming!" Dean said. He tried to lift the gun in his hands, but it was too heavy.

        Bridget did not move.

        Although he couldn't turn his head (it was also too heavy, like a lead weight perched upon his neck), Dean knew Billy was standing next to him, almost against him. He could feel him. "Billy, we have to get out of here! Is Bridget okay? I don't think she's breathing!"

        Moving Dean's hair aside with his fingers, Billy whispered in his ear. "She can't move," he said.

        The avatar slinked closer. Dean saw the reflection of Mr. Tripp in the creature's eyes. "Don't shoot it in the eyes, boy!" he bellowed. "The eyes are worth half a grand."

        "Why can't she move?" Dean asked. When he tried to walk toward Bridget, Dean found that his feet were stuck in a patch of quicksand. He fought against the muck, but his feet only tread in one place.

        Billy's fingers played along the edges of Dean's hair. "Because..." His lips brushed Dean's ear. "...I killed her."

        Dean awoke in a cold sweat, the phantom feeling of Billy's fingers still tickling through his hair.


	11. The Watcher in the Woods

**Chapter 11: The Watcher in the Woods**

 **Chapters:** 11 of 15 (5,009 words this part)

  
        Paul's face looked deeply troubled, eyebrows creased in the middle and a hand to his parted lips. "This game Billy played with Bridget... I can understand why it disturbed you. It sounds like the kid was really tormented. The fact that you were only 16 and you had to deal with that... knowing that you should do something but not knowing what to do..." Reaching out, Paul ran his fingers through the hair just above Dean's ear.

        Dean heard a voice from the nightmare in his head. _"Because... I killed her."_

        He instantly sprang up from the couch with a gasp and a cringe. Paul looked after him, a little confused. "Oh... right. You said..."

        Trying to be apologetic, Dean nodded with a little smile. "Yeah. Uh, anyway..."

        "Does it weird you out sometimes? That Billy did those horrible things and I look like him?"

        There was a discernable pause, one long enough to send an impetuous stab of hurt through Paul. Then Dean shook his head, came over to him, and took his face in his hands, giving him a kiss. "No, it doesn't weird me out. Not in the way that'd I'd ever want to stop touching you."

        "But it does weird you out sometimes. It has to," Paul insisted.

        With a sigh, Dean plopped back into the seat beside him. "I guess... there are times. But - "

        "Dean, it's okay. You don't have to tack on a bunch of explanations. As long as it doesn't send you screaming out the door..." He tried to change the subject; this one was too awkward for either of their comfort. "So what did you do about Billy?"

*****

        Deep in the heart of the woods, Dean felt privileged to be watching his father carefully rake leaves over a bear trap he'd just set in the shade of a large oak tree. Dad was letting him help on the hunt! "What happens after we catch an avatar in the trap?"

        John dusted off his hands. "We wait. The injured animal will make so much noise that it'll bring more avatars to it. And we just start picking them off."

        "Sweet. Genius plan, Dad." Dean couldn't wait to get home and tell Sammy about that one. Too bad John wouldn't let the younger boy come.

        At that thought, Dean looked over at Mr. Harvelle with his daughter, showing her how to aim the little beebee gun his wife would allow her to have. She was obviously interested in the adults' guns and was sometimes allowed to hold one, but Jo was still so young. Even Dean could tell that most of the little girl's interest in hunting involved her love for her father, and how much she just wanted to spend time with him.

        Something he could relate to.

        Dean watched with a bittersweet smile as Bill lifted Jo's hand a little higher, showed her how to look through the gun's sight, and then tickled her under the arms when she was caught off guard. Jo giggled, lowering the gun. "How do you aim now, huh? It's hard to do when you're being attacked by the Tickle Monster," Bill said, hugging her close and kissing the side of her head. "You better get that gun up, 'cause I'm not stopping."

        "We don't shoot the Tickle Monster," Jo giggled, and began to laugh loudly as Bill tickled her harder.

        "No, he's a good guy, like Cookie Monster."

        Dean smiled to himself. "You know, Sammy's never going to let you forget this. The Harvelles bring their younger daughter out here and he's stuck at home."

        "That's up to the Harvelles." After wiping his forehead with a rag, John took a drink from his canteen. "Go get me the orange tape out of my truck. I want to mark this tree."

        "Okay." Dean headed for his father's black truck. Halfway there, a rifle shot rang out. Everyone turned in surprise just as the avatar fell.

        Kaitlyn lowered her rifle. "Almost didn't see that one, the way it was sneaking through the underbrush."

        "Kait, that could have been our catch," John complained, pointing at the bear trap on the ground at his feet.

        "Sure, with you standing there? It would have gutted you before it ever stepped in that thing." She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

        "They don't come out in the daytime very much," commented Ellen. She fidgeted nervously with the shotgun in her hands. "Bill, you better put Jo in the truck."

        "Aw, but I'm teaching her to aim."

        "Bill..."

        He raised a hand to shush her. "You're right, you're right." Bill picked Jo up, turning her nearly upside down to make her laugh.

        When he passed Drew, the man was snickering; he indicated Ellen and then teased Bill about how easily he'd given in to her demand, making whip-cracking sounds and flicking his wrist like he was flicking an invisible whip. "Whu-ch, whu-ch!"

        Although they hadn't started off on the best foot, Bill and Drew were better friends now. One thing they found fun was trading insults. "Oh, like you and your wife."

        Drew opened his mouth to respond, but Kaitlyn chose that moment to unknowingly illustrate Bill's point. "Drew, go dress the thing. Here's your gloves."

        Bill just laughed derisively.

        Drew imitated him, but made the laugh sound much more dopey as he walked off to do what his wife wanted. He collected his gloves and the jars he would need to save the avatar's eyes and some of its blood.

        "Don't forget the ears. A guy in New Mexico says there's been a demand for their ears." Kaitlyn held out a hunting knife.

        "Yes, dear," Drew replied, almost rolling his eyes at being ordered around in front of his buddy.

        Bill just laughed.

        Rifling around in the case his dad kept his weapons in, Dean searched for the tape. The Harvelle's truck was nearby, and as Ellen came over to check on Jo, sitting in the driver's seat with the door open where her father had placed her, she noticed that Dean stopped and stared off into space; there was something deep on his mind. "You need some help there, Dean?"

        He jumped a little, as if startled. "Uh, no, I'm fine. Just trying to find some tape."

        "You seem to have something on your mind."

        "Um... kinda." He couldn't talk to his dad. John knew too much about Dean's friends; he'd know in a second who Dean was talking about, and who knew what would happen then. "You've known a lot of hunters, right?"

        "You could say that. Bill and I run a bar in Omaha, and a lot of Bill's friends come in there."

        "Have any of them ever done anything... that scared you?"

        Leaning on John's truck, Ellen looked a bit confused as she asked, "How do you mean?"

        "Well..." The woman hung out with heavily-armed hunters, many of whom were expert liars. There had to be some unhinged people among her list of friends. "...has anyone ever done anything that made you fear for their sanity?"

        Blurting out a laugh, Ellen said, "All the time." She regarded Dean carefully, trying to read him. "There are a lot of people in this community who have lost the ones they love to the supernatural. That would make anyone a little crazy."

        "I guess it would."

        "Do you know someone who's doing things that scare you?"

        Was that ever an understatement; Dean had to let out a small laugh. "Oh, yeah."

        "Like what?"

        God, he couldn't tell her this... he had to water it down, keep some details to himself. "I have a friend whose parents are getting divorced. His dad was cheating, and he found out about it. My friend knows who his dad was cheating with, and... he keeps doing things that make me think... that he's planning to kill her."

        Ellen reared back a little at the gravity of what Dean had just told her. "Some kid? You're talking about one of your high school friends?"

        "Yeah. But don't tell my dad, please don't tell my dad..."

        "Maybe your dad can help, Dean..."

         _He can't. He'll know, he'll know, somehow, he'll know, and John Winchester cannot have a cocksucker for a son._ "Please, can we just keep this to ourselves?"

        Her eyes darting between Dean and his father in the distance, Ellen thought it over. "I guess so. But it really depends on what's going on, kid. What has your friend done?"

        "He's just so _angry_. He keeps talking about killing her for breaking up his parents. And drawing all these fucked up pictures of people with blood all over them." Dean could have gone on, told her about the twisted sex game, but he couldn't bring himself to take this virtual stranger into that level of confidence. _We share this girl, you see, she's our fuck buddy, and he likes to pretend to kill her and dump her body in the woods._ Yeah, right, Dean was _never_ going to tell Ellen that.

        Because Ellen hadn't heard the whole story, it didn't sound that bad to her. "I don't think that means he's going to _kill_ this woman, Dean. He's just really mad."

        "I know, but... I don't know what to do."

        Ellen peered into John's gun case. "This is a nice Mossberg." She took out a shotgun and looked it over. "Your dad said someone took this gun out of his case and expelled a round a few days ago. One of those avatars turned up dead the next morning, a shotgun round in its head. He thinks it was you, but he doesn't know why. Does that have anything to do with your friend?"

        Dean ducked his head. "Kinda."

        Noticing that John was now staring at her with the gun in her hands, Ellen nodded at him, her eyes telling him to stay away, let her handle it. Dean raised his head and looked at her a bare second later. "What happened, son?"

        Again, Dean quickly formulated a way to tell this story without revealing too much. "My friends wanted to come out here to mess around. I tried to talk them out of it, but since they didn't know about the avatars, they insisted. So I took my dad's gun to protect them."

        "And one of the things snuck up on you and you had to shoot it."

        "Yeah. But they never saw it, only me," he lied.

        That gave Ellen an idea. "Does your friend like to hunt?"

        Dean shrugged. "I don't think he's ever been."

        "For some people, hunting is about releasing their anger." She placed the Mossberg in Dean's hands. "Take your friend out hunting. Not avatars, but regular animals. Take him somewhere else. Teach him to shoot. It'll give him an outlet for his anger."

        A little dubious, Dean said, "Is it really a good idea to put a gun in his hands when he wants to kill this woman?"

        Ellen patted his shoulder. "Dean, he doesn't want to kill anybody. He's just a kid."

        He almost cringed. Would she feel differently about that if he'd told her everything?

        "You just try it. I've known a lot of people who kept a tight rein on their pain by blowing away a few oogity-boogities. Works just the same with quail." Ellen ended her sentence with a wink.

        "Well... maybe you've got a point. Thanks, Mrs. Harvelle."

        "I told you to stop that." She smacked his arm. "It's Ellen."

        Dean just chuckled. "Okay, Ellen."

        His hands placed sternly on his hips, John called, "Dean! Are you ever coming with that tape?"

        Dean put the Mossberg back in the case. "Coming, sir!" When he turned back to Ellen, he just barely caught sight of the avatar before it leapt into the back of the Harvelle's truck, growling at Jo through the cab's back window. "Ellen, it's - "

        She had her own shotgun. Ellen had laid it on the tailgate of John's truck when she came over to talk to Dean. Now she snatched it up and turned fluidly toward the avatar with a swift but practiced grace. Jo hadn't even had time to scream when her mother pumped the shotgun and put a round into the avatar's head. Once the creature had fallen with a limp thud, it was then that Jo began to cry.

        The others were still staring in surprise when both Ellen and Bill had gone to their daughter to comfort her. Ellen spoke so everyone could hear. "Don't you think it's time we get out of here and give that trap time to work?"

        "As soon as Dean brings me the tape," John replied with annoyance.

        Dean winced.

        Ellen nodded toward the dead animal in the back of her truck. "We're not taking that back to town. You wanna get a move on so you can dress that one too, Drew?"

        Drew scowled at her from under the brim of his cap.

        In reaction, Bill had a good snicker. "Whu-ch, whu-ch!"

*****

        "What are we doing out here?"

        Dean was taking Ellen's advice, but in his own way. As pansyass as it sounded in his own head, he couldn't stand to kill innocent animals when there was a whole wood full of demonic creatures to use as target practice out there. Dean retrieved two of his weapons from the trunk of the Impala. "Keep your panties on; I told you I'm going to explain."

        Billy looked out over North Cypress Woods. "I thought you didn't want us to come back out here."

        "I don't, not without me."

        "What's so special about you?" joked Billy.

        Showing him the shotgun and the large hunting knife, Dean smirked and said, "I'm heavily armed."

        He hoped Billy would believe what he was telling him as they picked their way through the woods, bands of late afternoon sunlight occasionally passing across their hair as it wafted through the dense cover of tree limbs. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. "My dad and I put out a bear trap. We caught one of those fucked up coyotes."

        Staring in surprise, Billy stopped walking for a moment. "You did?"

        "Yeah. You and I are going to kill it." Dean caught his eye. "Together."

        Billy stopped moving again. The expression on his face was especially boyish, making him look vulnerable. He swallowed loud enough for Dean to hear and then stood there with his mouth slightly open, just looking at him. "Wh... why?"

        Coming over, Dean took Billy's hand and pressed the handle of the knife into it, curling Billy's fingers around the hilt. He tried to make his kiss as tender as possible as he pressed his lips to the other boy's mouth. Billy kissed back, blinking in disbelief. "Because I'm worried about you. I want to give you an outlet for your anger."

        Billy, not saying anything, continued to look at Dean as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

        They walked on a little deeper into the woods before they rounded a thatch of bushes and there was the avatar, lying in the leaves with one of its back legs caught by the bear trap. It looked up at their approach pitifully, sad-eyed, with a muzzle holding its jaws closed. The leaves all around it were dotted and smeared with black goo.

        Billy froze, glaring at the avatar. When he'd seen this thing before, it had been from a distance; seeing it from only a few feet away was a completely different experience. "Holy crap, Dean... what's wrong with its ears?"

        "Just keep your distance for a minute, okay?" Dean pumped the shotgun and swept an arm in front of Billy to keep him back. "Don't look it directly in the eyes and don't look at these puddles of black shit on the ground, either."

        "You keep saying that. Why don't you want me to look - "

        "Just do what I say, will ya? Trust me for once."

        Annoyed, Billy sighed, but did as Dean said. "What if it gets up and comes after us? A bear trap isn't going to..." He trailed off when Dean lifted a length of chain up with his foot, showing him that the trap was attached to the tree next to the creature, keeping it from going anywhere. "Why do you have this thing chained up to the tree anyway?"

        "These mutant coyotes, they're really dangerous, okay? And there's a lot of them in these woods. We're taking out as many as we can to protect the public. If you catch one, others will come to help it, and you can just pick them off one by one."

        "Your dad a forest ranger or some sort of animal control officer?"

        Considering that, Dean replied, "Yeah, you could say that." It wasn't exactly a lie.

        "I can't believe I've known you this long and I didn't really know what your dad did for a living."

        Dean shrugged it off. "It can't bite you with the muzzle on. Be careful, though."

        "You want me to get in there and cut its throat?" Billy regarded the avatar with a mixture of awe and confusion. "Won't your dad get angry?"

        "No, we can just leave part of its leg in the trap and he'll think the coyote chewed it off."

        "And this is all about me?" Billy asked, a little dubious.

        Dean looked at him for several seconds before responding. "Man, it's like I said... you're so angry lately. You need an outlet."

        Seeing the sympathetic eyes, Billy shifted with discomfort; he realized Dean felt sorry for him. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

        "What? No. No, Billy, I don't think you're crazy. But things are all fucked up for you at home and the stuff you're doing... it's scarin' me, man." Dean tried to appeal to that side of Billy, to bring out his darker side. "Wouldn't it make you feel good? Just to slice through its throat and watch it die? You could pretend that thing is the woman who fucked your dad."

        A dark little smile teased at Billy's mouth. "Hmm. Now that's an idea."

        "Yeeeeah..." Leaning in close, Dean kissed the corner of his lips. "And when we're done, we can fool around if you wanna. In my car, not here."

        "Hmmm." Billy kissed him back, much more aggressively, running a hand up his side. "Sounds good."

        "Okay. Now get to work," Dean commanded, nudging him with the gun.

        With a devilish grin, Billy turned to the animal, alternating his grip on the knife several times out of anxiousness. The avatar growled and got to its feet as much as it could manage. As Billy approached it, crouching down and reaching for the back of its neck, Dean was at the ready with the gun in case something happened. The avatar tried to dart away at the last second, but Billy got a good hold on the scruff of its neck and prepared to slash its throat. The knife brushing its fur, he suddenly froze.

        Dean waited. Billy didn't move. "Billy? Come on, whatcha waiting for?"

        After a few moments of silence, Billy lowered the knife and placed it on the ground. He quickly removed the muzzle from the creature's snout, saying, "I revere you."

        Dean let out a long, pronounced gasp. When he saw Billy reaching for the bear trap like he was going to open it, he gasped again, and, seeing that he had as clear a shot as he could get, pumped a round into the avatar's face. Billy shielded his face with his arms; he was splattered with the black blood. The animal fell down dead.

        Breathing hard, Billy got to his feet. "What did you do that for?!" he yelled, nearly charging at Dean.

        Dean pointed at the muzzle on the ground. "What did _you_ do _that_ for?!"

        "You lied to me!" Billy accused. His hands balled into angry fists; his feet did a back and forth dance of pent up aggression. "That wasn't a mutated coyote. It was a _demon!_ "

        The look of shock and surprise on Dean's face, his eyes alternating between wide and squinted in suspicion as he tried to figure out where that had come from... "Wha... how... kind of." Dean took a second to gather his wits about him. "How do you know about that?!"

        "Just tell me."

        "Uh... okay, they're not coyotes. They're avatars of the Egyptian god Seth. Like his own personal servant demons." Repeating his question, Dean asked, "How do you know about demons?"

        Billy paused, taking time to decide if he wanted to spill the whole insane-sounding story to Dean. "You believe in them, don't you?"

        "Aren't we standing here talking about them right now?"

        "Okay... I know about demons because I've been talking to them my whole life."

        Now Dean couldn't speak for a moment, his eyes widening in shock. "What?"

        "You know all those pictures I've drawn of the scary-lookin' guys with the skeletal faces and the wide mouths full of fangs and all that? Those are my forces. They're my own personal gang of demons. Most people can't see them; they keep themselves invisible to everyone else, but I'm special." Billy grinned like a proud little boy who'd just built his first model airplane. "I can communicate with them and see them when no one else can."

        Dean felt almost struck dumb by what Billy was telling him. "What... what do they say to you, Billy?"

        "They tell me I'm good. No matter how my parents treat me, how they ignore me and leave me and make me feel forgotten, I'm still a good person." Billy smirked. "And they give me _ideas_."

        "Billy... have they been telling you to kill Maureen Prescott?" Dean questioned.

        Nodding, Billy's eyes began to go unfocused, dreamy, like he was seeing his demon friends and all the wicked things they spoke of. "They _describe_ how I should do it. I see such wonderful pictures of the bitch all spread open, covered with blood, guts all over the place. They tell me I'm justified in wanting to kill her. The demons, Dean... when no else loves me, they always will." A look of ecstasy overtook Billy's face, eyes closed, mouth hanging open; a delighted moan dripped from his mouth. "Oh, Dean, I wish you could see the things they show me and feel the things they make me feel."

        Dean, fearing for him, dropped his gun and rushed forward, taking Billy's face in his hands. "Billy? Billy, stay with me. Billy, what are they doing to you?!" He shook him.

        The sounds coming out of Billy were almost sexual. "Mmm, Dean. I get so high when they're inside my head. I wish you could feel it."

        "No, this isn't a good thing. You gotta stop talking to them, Billy; demons are evil!" As his eyes were practically rolling up in his head, Dean shook Billy hard. Billy, annoyed, finally looked at him again. "They're trying to get you to do horrible things because that's what they do! You can't listen!"

        "They're the only ones who have always been there for me. My forces always listen."

        "Does anyone else know about them?"

        "Just my mom. She always referred to them as imaginary friends, but I believe she really understood," Billy said, his face growing sad. "But she left me."

        "I know, Billy, and I'm sorry."

        Before Dean could say anymore, Billy grabbed him and began to kiss him with the same aggression he'd shown the night he found out about his father's affair. Dean didn't resist but he didn't fully give in, either. "I don't wanna talk about that shit," Billy said between kisses. "I just want to make you feel good."

        "Billy, wait - " Dean tried to get his sentence out while Billy went on kissing him. "We can't - do this - here. The ava - the av - Billy - "

        "It's okay. They won't hurt us." Continuing to push himself on Dean, Billy took his ass in his hands and squeezed him through his jeans, pressing their crotches together. "My gang will protect me. I show all demons respect. They won't let these avatars hurt us." He backed Dean against a wide tree, pushing Dean's legs open with his knee and putting himself between them.

        Dean started to protest, but only a loud, aroused moan escaped his lips as Billy pressed into him, hard, and rubbed against his cock through his clothes. His mind tried to shut off and give in to the pleasure of having a rough, fast, aggressive fuck, the kind only a man could give him because they were generally stronger. At least, this was as close to a fuck the two of them would ever get. But the big picture scratching at the back of Dean's mind wouldn't leave him alone. "Stop, Billy, we gotta talk." He tried to get his hands in between them so he could push Billy away.

        At that moment, Billy grabbed the tree behind Dean and used it as leverage to grind into him even harder, pulling at the same time that he thrust Dean upward. Dean was up on his tiptoes every time Billy ground against him. He cried out at the sudden overload of pleasure. "Bi... lly... God!"

        Billy moved his hips in little circles with every thrust. Flush against Dean, he whispered in his ear. "Give in to me. Give yourself to me."

        It was obvious Dean had already done that; he no longer protested, just moaned and gasped everytime Billy pressed against him.

        Not long after, they came within seconds of each other, Dean's arms wrapped around Billy's back and Billy's head on his shoulder. The back of Dean's shirt was a mess of dirt from the bark of the tree. For half a minute, they just held each other and panted. Then Billy relaxed, letting Dean down, fully on his feet.

        His voice colored with emotion, Billy said in Dean's ear, "I love you, Dean."

        Dean's response was instant. "Love you too, Billy."

        Dean wasn't sure what to do with the dead avatar. He eventually decided to saw through what was left of its trapped leg so it would look like it had chewed it off, then throw the body into a deep thicket of bushes where it hopefully would not be seen.

        When they reached the Impala, Dean brought up the subject of Billy's demons again. "I know that you've been talking to these demons for a long time, Billy, but you need to understand that they are not your friends. I'm worried about you. You need to talk to my dad about this."

        "Why would I talk to your dad?" Billy slid into the passenger seat.

        "Because..." Getting into the driver's seat, Dean shut his door. "...my dad knows a lot about demons."

        Looking confused, Billy asked, "How could your father know a lot about demons? Very few people can see them."

        How did he go about telling Billy the truth... "Uh... I kinda lied to you back there. My dad isn't a forest ranger or an animal control officer. He hunts monsters."

        "He... hunts monsters?"

        Dean glared at him across the seat. "You're actually going to use that tone with me after what you just told me?"

        "What tone?"

        "That 'Oh my God, what the fuck are you talking about?' tone. You claim to have communicated with demons since you were a kid, and _this_ is unbelievable to you?"

        Billy shrugged. "I talk to demons; I know they exist. What the hell are _you_ talking about?"

        Frustrated, Dean tried to explain. "Monsters. Werewolves, demons, vengeful ghosts and ghouls - "

        Billy began to laugh. "Are you kidding?"

        " _No_ , I'm not kidding. My dad hunts them, all of them. He'll tell you that you shouldn't do what these demons want you to do. We can help you be rid of them, I know we can. We just have to tell him together."

        "I'm not telling your dad anything," Billy declared. "I don't want my demons to go anywhere."

        Dean had reached for the ignition, ready to start the car, but when he heard that, he turned to Billy again, desperation in his eyes. "Billy, you can't kill people. You can't kill Mrs. Prescott. Don't you understand that once you do that, your life will be over?

        "I brought you out here so you could get your aggression out on these avatars. You can't kill her, Billy. Please, _please_ give up on this idea of killing her." Dean leaned across the seat and touched Billy's leg, to make a connection with him.

        Billy didn't say anything, just looked down at his hands while Dean made his plea.

        When he remained silent, Dean went on talking. "Demons are evil, Billy." An emotional pause. "A demon killed my mom."

        Billy shook his head. "Just because you had a bad experience with one doesn't mean all demons are evil."

        "A _bad experience?_ "

        Billy tried to talk over him. "My demons help me. They know what I really need."

        Sitting back, Dean sighed heavily, thinking it over. "You don't know what's best for you in this situation. I'm telling my dad." He started the car.

        Billy's voice grew cold and calculated. "If you tell your dad about my demons, I'll tell him how you mewl when I suck your dick."

        Dean froze. The car rumbled and, when it wasn't switched into drive, died with a sputter. He glared at Billy, eyes steely. "You wouldn't dare."

        "Don't try me."

        They stared at each other for several long, tense moments, feeling each other out. Then Dean started the Impala again and drove off without a word. He didn't speak until they got to Billy's house.

        "This isn't over," Dean declared.

        Before Billy could lean down to the passenger side window and give his response, Dean gunned the gas and took off.


	12. Phantasm

**Chapter 12: Phantasm**

 **Chapters:** 12 of 15 (4,646 words this part)

  
        Dean paced the living room of Paul's apartment while telling this part of the story, the tenseness of the situation getting into his legs and making him too restless to stay seated.

        Paul was shaking his head. "My God. He was haunted by demons."

        "Yeah. And he _liked_ it."

        "You said... you said that Billy called them... his forces?" A tremble crept through Paul's voice.

        "That was one nickname he used." Dean made the connection. "Oh, Paul... I'm sure that has no connection to the Forces within you. It's just a common way to refer to these types of things." When Paul went on leaning his forehead against his folded hands, Dean headed back to the couch to sit next to him. "Hey. Paul? Look at me. It's not the same thing."

        "How do we know that?" Paul mumbled without looking up.

        "Because - have they asked you to do anything bad? Told you to kill anyone?"

        "No."

        "You see?"

        "What Billy was experiencing, he was actually hearing their voices? These demons?" Paul had to press the subject further; he had to be sure before he acted on one more odd feeling from his sixth sense.

        "Yes. I'm positive."

        Sighing in relief, he tried to relax. "Okay. But there's some sort of correlation here. You can't tell me it's just a coincidence."

        "I get what you're saying." Dean rubbed Paul's shoulder. "Just calm down; it's okay."

        Paul let out a shaky breath and tried to smile. "Whatever my Forces are, they've never spoken directly to me. Not that I know of. I get feelings. I only speak to dead people.

        "Did you tell your dad about the demons?"

        "Not then. I was sure that Billy would make good on his threat if I told my dad anything." Pausing, Dean shook his head in regret and shame. "I should have told him. I should have told him right off." He lamented his decision for the hundredth time while Paul looked on him with sympathy. "The next couple weeks moved really fast. Billy and I avoided each other for a few days. I asked Bridget if Billy had ever told her anything really out of the ordinary about himself, and it didn't seem he had, not anything about the demons. But she did say that the abduction game kind of creeped her out sometimes, especially because she often smelled strange things when they played it alone. Rotten eggs... burnt matches..."

        Paul's eyes widened in shock. "Those are potential signs that demons are present."

        "That's what I think. Once I got her talking about it, Bridget spilled everything. Her eyes went all wide and her voice started to shake, and the more she told me, the weaker her legs became... I swear, the girl had to hold onto the lockers to keep herself from falling right over. She spilled all the details like she was in a trance.

        "Bridget said that there were times when they played this game that it felt like Billy wasn't the only one touching her. That sometimes Billy's dick got so engorged inside her that it felt like there were two of them."

        "Jesus Chri..."

        "But she said it didn't hurt," Dean continued, "that it was some of the most pleasurable sex she'd ever felt, and that it was almost like she couldn't be satisfied unless they played this game over and over."

        "She couldn't have an orgasm?"

        "No, exactly the opposite. Bridget had multiple orgasms until she was practically dripping down her thighs."

        Paul's eyebrows went up at not only the implications, but Dean's choice of language.

        "Then she described for me how one time while playing this game, Billy wanted to do it doggie style, and they did. And Bridge could feel Billy's hands on her; she knew exactly where they were the whole time. But there were other hands touching her. Icy cold fingers, fingering her clit, wrapped around her thighs, holding them open... then a tongue, licking her between the legs... and finally, Billy's dick became like steel. He was able to fuck her for so long that her legs and arms gave out." Dean blew out a long, heavy breath. "Afterward, the girl was so hot and bothered from recalling her story that she shoved me into a janitor's closet and jumped my bones."

        "Lord." Paul said what they were both thinking. "So the demons were using their connection to Billy to take pleasure in other people. That last thing, the... steel thing..."

        "Literally," Dean threw in with a smirk.

        After giving him a scolding glare, Paul finished, "It sounds like the demons were actually _possessing_ him at times. The feeling of two penises, the prolonged rigidity... it's all typical incubus stuff."

        "We're thinking alike on this."

        "For all we know, the demons could have had some sort of thrall working on Bridget to keep her loyal to Billy, and ensure that their little plaything kept coming back for more. I'm sure Billy enjoyed it immensely. I mean, he already trusted these demons; why not let them take a ride around in his skin as long as it felt good for him too?" Paul said, shaking his head.

        "Yeah. I told Bridget, practically begged her, not to have sex with Billy again until I could make sure it was safe. I'm thankful that she listened to me." Running a hand over his face, Dean readied himself to begin the hardest part of the story to tell. "It was after that that my dad and the hunters began putting the final phase of their plan into action. Bill Harvelle staked out the woods and got a good count of how many avatars were left."

        "He was the one skilled in outdoor survival."

        "Right. The team had diminished the number of avatars by 75 percent. They did their research and figured out that the cult would probably call up more avatars to replace the ones we'd killed, and the next best time to do it would be the night of the winter solstice. So Dad decided that they should strike and strike hard before December 21st.

        "They planned on the afternoon of the 20th. On the night of December 19th, Maureen Prescott was murdered."

        Even though he knew the murder happened at some point, Paul still looked surprised. "Shit."

        "Yeah," Dean said, nodding. "I was messing around in my room and heard Mr. Prescott come in close to midnight. He was screaming and carrying on to my father; the man thought the cult must've found out about our attack and murdered his wife as an attempt at a distraction or something. Maybe revenge. I wanted to say something _so badly_... but I didn't. Even after everything Billy had said, I didn't think he'd really do it.

        "Then, even I got thrown off track. A man named Cotton Weary was quickly arrested for the murder. Sidney Prescott caught a glimpse of someone leaving her house with Cotton Weary's coat on just minutes before she found her mother's body on the bedroom floor, ripped open and gutted. That coat was found in his car, covered in Mrs. Prescott's blood. I went to Billy and asked him point blank if he'd killed her. I couldn't let it rest until I'd confronted him..."

*****

        It was during lunch that Dean finally found Billy, sitting on the floor in front of his locker with his legs laid out straight and feet crossed, drawing in his artist pad. Stu sat next to him, talking and laughing with Casey Becker. She looked up when Dean approached, which caused Stu to look up too; for the first time, Stu did not scowl or look annoyed when he saw Dean coming. He grinned.

        "Can I speak to Billy alone?" Dean said to Stu and Casey.

        "Sure. You do that." Stu took Casey's hand and helped her up. The way she was giggling and hanging on Stu, it was obvious they were dating. Dean didn't know for how long, but it didn't really matter. He did notice, however, that Stu and Casey kept staring at him as they got up and walked away with amused smirks on their faces, like they knew something about Dean that could be considered embarrassing. Dean wondered if Billy had told them something.

        Billy looked at Dean from under his hair. "What?"

        "Look, I know the last time I saw you we ended things off with a fight, but I really need to talk to you. Can we just be civil for five minutes?"

        "I guess."

        "Uh..." Dean suddenly realized that he had just requested that Billy be civil to him, but he was about to ask him something that could be considered quite noncivil. Even so, he crouched in front of him and asked that critical question. "I'm just going to come out and say it, because you know you've been talking about it for months and then... did you have anything to do with the death of Maureen Prescott?"

        Leveling a cold, steely look at him, Billy said, "How can you ask me that?"

        "Like I said, you've been talking about doing it for months, practically the whole year - "

        "The police have a prime suspect. Cotton Weary was caught with Maureen Prescott's blood all over his coat. He killed her in a jealous rage and then walked out just as Sidney was coming home; she saw him, Dean. How could I have anything to do with that?"

        Putting up a hand to interrupt, Dean asked, "What do you mean, a jealous rage? You said Weary killed her in a jealous rage."

        Billy smirked impishly. "Didn't you hear? It's all over the local news. Cotton Weary was having an affair with her. He claims that he had sex with Maureen and then left, but we all know he did one more thing before he left that house. Weary stabbed her to death. Ripped her up from one end to the other, from what I've heard. The guy knew she was married, but I doubt he knew about the other men until now. There are rumors that my dad and Weary were only the tip of the iceberg. A woman like that... it was only a matter of time 'til someone flew into a rage on that one." With a shrug, he finished, "Sidney doesn't believe her mother was fucking anyone else; she thinks Cotton raped her mom. I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth."

        It actually hurt, the thoughts that ran through Dean's mind when he heard the affection in Billy's voice as he spoke about Sidney. Still, he pressed the issue. "In the woods, when I killed the avatar, you told me you loved me. If that's true, then I want you to swear to me that you're telling me the truth now."

        "Dean..." Billy leaned forward, a serious, sincere look upon his face. "I do love you. No matter what happens, I will always love you. I did not kill Mrs. Prescott. But I do have to admit that if I could, I'd love to shake the hand of the man who did."

        Even after all Billy had said and done, that comment still surprised Dean; he blinked and tilted his head to one side, furrowing his brow. "How can you say a thing like that? That's Sidney's mother."

        Billy just shrugged. "It is what it is." He went back to shading his drawing.

        Dean leaned far enough forward to see what he was sketching. It was a drawing of a dark-haired girl. "Who's that?"

        That smirk again. "It's Sidney. I thought it might cheer her up."

        Dean felt that pang of hurt that was becoming all too familiar. "How come you never draw me?"

        "Guys don't care about that sort of thing."

        Now Dean shrugged. "Some guys do."

        Saying nothing at first, Billy kept scribbling on his drawing, filling in Sidney's hair. "You got the answer to your question. Now go away. I'm busy."

        "Why are you being like that?" Dean asked, surprised. He thought they were making up.

        Billy looked up at him. "You thought I murdered somebody. That has a tendency to turn me off." He went back to his drawing, ignoring Dean.

        "Aw come on, Billy. You know you've been talking about doing it for ages. And then you tell me about your... your little friends that smell like brimstone. What was I - "

        Suddenly, Billy put the drawing aside and leaned right into Dean's face. "Do you think I don't know that you've been asking Bridget questions about our game? Did you find out some interesting little tidbits?"

        "Billy, I'm just trying to protect you."

        "I don't need protecting. Just stay out of it, okay?" He sat back again, relaxing, and took up his drawing pad once more. "You can't take them from me."

        Dean didn't know what to say to make Billy understand how dangerous this was for him. "Do you really think you can deal with the devil and not get burned? They're just going to use you until they've accomplished what they want, and then throw _you_ into the fire. How long until they decide they want Bridget all to themselves, huh? Are you really willing to allow her to get hurt or possibly killed just to please them?"

        For the last time, Billy took his attention off his drawing and looked up at Dean. "I would give them _anything_. Do you understand that? No one has been there for me as much as my forces have. _No one_. Not Bridget, not my mom, and certainly not you. So whenever this great betrayal is supposed to happen, you let me know, okay? Now get out of my sight." He folded his legs indian style and went on drawing.

        "Billy." Dean grabbed his knees and shook them. "Billy!"

        Billy ignored him.

        With a sigh, Dean stood up and walked away.

*****

        Looking at Paul, Dean shook his head in disbelief at the memory. "Later, I thought back and I realized what he'd said. ' _No matter what happens_ , I will always love you.' Billy already knew what he was going to do to protect his demon friends.

        "It was the day before Christmas break. I walked into school and noticed that everyone was staring and laughing at me. Some guy jumped at me and yelled, 'Boo!' I just couldn't figure it out, not until I made it to my locker. Billy and Stu were waiting for me."

*****

        Dean glared at how Stu was hanging on Billy, his arm around his neck; he especially didn't like the triumphant, mischievous look on Stu's face. Stu hadn't smiled like that in months. Randy, Casey, and Troy were there too, milling around, waiting to see what would happen.

        Dean pointed to his locker. "You're blocking my locker."

        "Are we? Oh, sorry," Stu snickered. "Maybe you should get out your ghostbusting equipment and try it out on us. Maybe we're really ghosts."

        Stu, Casey, and Troy waved their arms about like ghosts and wailed, "Wooooooooo!"

        Randy watched them, his expression confused.

        What the hell were they - Dean looked right at Billy, who was leaning against the lockers, smirking lazily at him. Had he told them - he hadn't. He couldn't have. "What the hell are they talking about, Billy?"

        "Have you already forgotten what you told me about your dad, Shaggy?"

        Stu cut in, "Yeah Shaggy, how you and Fred and Scooby go around busting ghosts in the Mystery Machine?"

        Casey laughed loudly.

        Dean's face fell. Billy _had_ told them. And he made it all out like a joke. Like Dean was crazy. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

        "Don't even try that now. Everyone knows what you told me. About how you and your dad kill monsters; is that how you put it? It's his job, apparently." Looking at the others, Billy started to laugh all over again, as he must have when he told them this story.

        "It's his job?" Troy said with a snicker. "What do people pay him in, boo-llion?"

        They all laughed that time.

        Dean put his head down. He had been betrayed. There was no going back now.

        Seeing that look, Randy seemed to feel bad that he had laughed; he tried to get them to explain because he hadn't heard Billy's story yet. "Really, guys, what the hell are you talking about?"

        "Just what I said," Billy began. "Dean told me his dad hunts monsters for a living. You know, werewolves, ghosts, vampires and all that shit - he thinks it all really exists."

        "And his dad's a big vamp-killing hero," Stu added with a high-pitched laugh. "Is that why he's got a whole arsenal of guns? He kills monsters; he's not a nut or anything."

        Dean started to say that as far as he knew, vampires didn't exist, but thought better of it.

        Randy tried to be sensitive. "Dean, you know I love horror movies just as much as you do, but you gotta step away, man. You're getting way too into it if you believe all that shit is real."

        While he didn't laugh, the others did, almost too hard to control themselves.

        "Come on, guys. Hey, maybe he was role-playing." Still trying to defend Dean's sanity, Randy attempted to get everyone's attention. "You were trying to get Billy to role-play with you when you said those things, right?"

        Dean just shook his head in disbelief. After all that had happened, he still couldn't believe Billy would do this to him. "Don't worry about it, Randy. I'm out of here."

        "No, Dean, stay. I've got a naughty leprechaun in my pocket and I need you to take care of 'im." Stu put his hand in his pocket, shaking it around wildly like there was an active little creature in there. "Come on Dean, he's dancing an Irish jig on my balls. I know you wanna get in there and take care of him!"

        "As badly as he wants to take care of Billy's naughty leprechaun?" Troy added. He and Casey leaned against the lockers, nearly howling with laughter.

        Dean had turned to leave, but now he pivoted back around to just glare at Billy. Had he really done what these new comments implied he'd done? Billy was standing against the lockers with his arms crossed, grinning back, no apology in his eyes.

        Now Randy was really confused, caught between the friendly affection he had for Dean and what the other's jokes seemed to be implying. "Okay, now I _really_ don't know what you guys are talking about."

        Before Billy or Stu could explain that one with another crass joke, Dean looked Billy in the eye and said, "I hope you and your 'forces' will be very happy together," and just walked away.

        "See ya, Shaggy!" Stu called.

        Dean could still hear their laughter all way down the hall.

        He would skip school. After the Christmas break, he could just change to another one; John had them do it all the time when they were moving around anyway. When he saw Tatum standing outside a classroom, talking to a friend, he decided he had to do one more thing before he left this school forever.

        She looked at him like he was insane, all wide-eyed and uncomfortable. "Uh, hi Dean. Whadda you want?"

        He spoke to Tatum's friend. "Can I talk to her alone for a minute?"

        "No, don't leave."

        "I'm not going to do anything to anyone." When no one moved, Dean begged, "Please? It's really important."

        The friend finally agreed, hanging around close by.

        "What?"

        Dean sighed. Stu and Billy, probably Stu, had already gotten to her. "I know what Billy and Stu are saying about me. But you don't have anything to fear. I won't hurt you. I just needed to warn you about Stu."

        Dubious that she had any reason to fear Stu, Tatum scoffed and said, "Warn me?"

        "Yeah. You shouldn't date him, ever. In fact, don't go anywhere with him or Billy again. Don't even go to Billy's parties. They're dangerous, both of them."

        Tatum rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I don't even know why you're telling me this; Stu wants Casey Becker, not me."

        "But I know you're interested in him. If he and Casey ever break up, and he comes after you, don't go with him. Alright? There's a lot you don't know about Stu and Billy." Dean tried to keep it as vague as possible so he didn't have to get into the more personal details.

        But of course, Tatum couldn't just accept that answer. "Oh, like what?"

        "Please just trust me."

        Rolling her eyes again, she said, "This is about all that crazy shit you believe, right? Are Billy and Stu werewolves or something?" She widened her eyes and wiggled her fingers in mock surprise.

        "No, I don't think they're werewolves. But..." How did he explain this? Dean decided to focus on something Tatum might be able to believe. "You should know that they _are_ involved in a relationship. Stu sucks Billy's dick on a regular basis."

        "Oh, that's rich," Tatum laughed. "You are so jealous it isn't even funny. Now let's look at this picture. Stu, girlfriend. Billy, girlfriend. You, no girlfriend. Unless you count that slut you hang out with."

        "Billy doesn't have a girlfriend."

        "Are you blind? Billy's been dating Sidney Prescott since March," she informed him. "Sid goes to another school, but she'll be coming here after the Christmas break. After her mother's murder, people at her other school have been saying such awful things about Mrs. Prescott that she just has to get away from there."

        Yes, Dean guessed he was blind. "They aren't dating. Billy and Sid, they're just... friends." It was slowly dawning on Dean that he was a colossal fool.

        "You just keep telling yourself that," Tatum said in a patronizing tone, patting his arm. "Sidney's practically my best friend. I think I would know if she and Billy were together."

        "Yeah." This was too much. Dean gave up. "I guess you would."

        On his way out of the school, he exited through the doors that led to the alcove, the alcove where he, Billy, and Bridget had had their first threesome. No one was out there, so he stopped for a moment to lament the loss of his carefree adolescence. How could Billy do these things to him? How could he humiliate him like that?

        Someone came out the same doors. Dean turned to see that it was Troy. "Hey Shaggy," he chuckled.

        "Get the fuck away from me, man. I'm not in the mood for this shit," Dean replied, and started to walk away.

        "Did you really think you could save him, Winchester?"

        That tone... Dean didn't like how threatening that tone sounded. He looked up and right into Troy's eyes.

        Troy's completely black eyes.

        When Dean saw those black irises, he remembered something his father had said once. About how you could tell if someone was possessed by a demon by looking at their eyes. This is what he meant.

        "I mean, really, you thought you could love Billy into giving us up, when Billy's been ours since the day he was born?" Troy said with a grin.

        Dean dropped his backpack and roughly shoved Troy up against the wall. "Who are you?"

        "Ooh, yeah, you know how I like it."

        "Who are you, goddamn it?!"

        The thing inside Troy laughed. "My name is Alistair. I'm one of Billy's 'forces'."

        "What are you doing to him?" Dean growled.

        "Everything you thought we were doing to him," Alistair snickered. "We have great plans for Billy, much more than we've already accomplished."

        "What have you done?!"

        "Oh sure, I'm just going to spill it all!" Alistair shoved Dean back so he'd let go of him. He wanted to strut around while he played with the Winchester whelp. "Now if you'll get out your paper and pen, I'm going to dictate for you our master plan."

        "Are you - if you are, I'll - "

        "Am I the demon who killed your mother? No, I didn't have that particular pleasure. You'd know if I had, though, because your mother would have been fucked up, down, and sideways first."

        Dean rushed at him and tried to push him to the ground, but Troy had become like a brick wall; Dean just bounced off and found himself down instead. "People possessed by demons are like steel, Winchester. Learn it, know it, be it."

        "Don't say shit about my mom! Ever!"

        "Aww, you gonna cry?" Alistair circled Dean as he spoke. "You've been thinking ever since our little Bridget told you about our activities with her that at least one of us might be an incubus, haven't you? Well, that's one thing you're right on." He pointed to himself. "When I went to her this morning, I just had to give her one look and she spilled everything about her conversation with you. You think you can make her stay away? I've already got that girl wrapped around my finger. Her will is mine now."

        "Stay away from her!"

        Alistair snickered again. "Your little threats don't scare me, boy." Crouching down, he taunted Dean further. "I'm the one who got little Bridget into anal sex. She begs for it now. Soooo tight. I love it." He leaned into Dean's face. "I'm sorry that you and Billy don't get along anymore. I was hoping he could finally talk you into letting him fuck you up the ass. You look like you'd be a blast to fuck."

        A shiver rushed up Dean's spine, not only because this was a demon talking to him that way, but because for just a second, he kind of wanted exactly what Alistair described. That incubus thrall.

        "Whadda ya say, Dean? Before you and Billy part ways, one fuck for the road?" Alistair brushed a finger along Dean's chin.

        A second later, Dean was scrambling up off the pavement. He backed away in a daze. Now he understood why Bridget had so much trouble giving it up, even after all the weird things she'd felt during sex with Billy.

        "Awww." Alistair pretended he was disappointed. "Oh well. And you're so pretty too."

        "Stay away from me. My dad's going to wipe the floor with you," declared Dean.

        "Is he? Are you sure you want to get him involved?" He moved a little closer. "Because he might not like to hear what you've been doing. The things you and Billy do when he's not around... and all the things we could _invent_..."

        Dean tried to think of a good comeback, a threat, anything that would keep this monster quiet. "He'll never believe it."

        "Are you sure? Do you think your father hasn't noticed how close you and Billy have become? Do you think he doesn't suspect anything?"

        Swallowing hard, Dean had no response. Did his father suspect something?

        Alistair continued. "Maybe all your father needs is one little push to accept that his son is a cocksucker."

        Dean tried the only thing he could. "Maybe so. But he'll still send your evil, worthless ass back to hell."

        "Now how can he do that when Troy isn't possessed?" Before Dean could even begin to find meaning for that cryptic remark, Troy opened his mouth and screamed. Black iridescent smoke flowed out of his mouth and disappeared into the sky. Dean watched it go in shock; he'd never seen anything like that before.

        As Troy fell unconscious to the ground, Dean came to the realization that the demon had just escaped, and he had no idea if it would be gone from their lives forever or would someday return.

  
 **Notes:** Some fans have written fic about Alistair being an incubus and screwing the shit out of Dean while he was in hell. I didn't find either actor they got to play Alistair to be at all attractive, but the idea of the _demon_ inside those men being a sex machine is very appealing. So, I gave him a different body. :D


	13. American Psycho

**Chapter 13: American Psycho**

 **Chapters:** 13 of 15 (2,652 words this part)

  
        "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry he did that to you," Paul said, stroking the inside of Dean's thigh. "I know it must have hurt."

        Dean leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss. "It did. Billy even had the gall to try to apologize. That night, I was upset so I took a pain pill; my dad always had them around. These were strong enough to knock me out pretty good. I just didn't want to lie awake all night thinking about it, you know?"

        Paul nodded, still lightly rubbing his thigh.

        "While I was sleeping, there were noises that barely woke me up. I was just too out of it. Normally, the sound of that window had me up in a second. This time, I just remember hearing something odd and going right back to sleep."

        "Billy came in?"

        "Seems so. I woke up some time after he left me the note. The window was open, curtains blowing in the breeze... he'd drawn me a picture of myself. After the comment I made, Billy had drawn me a picture to try to apologize. It was sitting on top of my footlocker. He'd also written me a note across the footlocker with a chalk rock or something; his handprints were on the locker in chalk. The note said, 'I'm sorry, but you left me no choice. Please don't hate me.' I got a rag and washed it off." With a frown, Dean sighed. "Did he think it'd be that easy for me to forgive him?"

        Paul almost told him what'd he'd always been taught about forgiveness being something you do for yourself, but he didn't think Dean would receive the message very well right now. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry he hurt you so bad."

        Dean tried to put it behind him, continue with the story. "My dad and his group took care of the Chaos cult, by the way. At least for the time being. Mr. Prescott wanted to do it for his wife. He was convinced for a while that Cotton Weary was a member of the cult, but there was never any evidence of it. I think that's just what he wanted to believe.

        "They mounted this big offensive against the cult and killed all their avatars. The leader of the cult pulled a gun on them; someone shot him and he died. I don't know anymore about it than that."

        "Your dad wanted to keep you out of it?"

        "I think so. The cult pretty much disbanded after that. A group is only as strong as its leader, even one that is built on disorder."

        Paul nodded.

        "Christmas came and went. It was okay. Dad spent all his time looking for our next case. I knew what was going to happen as soon as I saw the newspapers from Colorado that Drew Tripp sent him. In a way, I was really glad for it." Dean frowned again. "In _many_ ways, I was glad for it."

        "You were about to move again."

        "Yes. I came in the house the day before New Year's and Dad was packing. I just started packing with him. I couldn't wait to go, to get away from all the pain and embarrassment Billy had caused me. Didn't fight it at all. Poor Sammy." He shook his head at the memory. "He came in and saw us packing..."

        Dean remembered the look on Sam's face, the hurt, betrayed expression in his eyes. His face just fell when he saw those boxes. _"No! I won't go!"_ Sam had yelled, near tears.

         _"You can't stay here by yourself," said John._

 _"I can live with Ricky's family. I know he'd let me stay."_

 _"Don't be an idiot, Sam. You're staying with your family."_

 _Sam turned on his brother. "Dean, you're old enough to get a job. We can stay here, keep the house."_

 _"Sammy, I'm only sixteen. It's just ain't happening."_

 _After looking at them both, the first tears rolling out of his eyes, Sam cried, "I hate you!" and ran to his room._

        "Sammy was pretty much inconsolable. He eventually started helping us pack in silence. He wouldn't even talk to me. I felt awful. But there was nothing I could do. I guess he thought I could talk Dad out of it or something."

        "You were only sixteen," Paul offered.

        "I know. But I was his big brother."

        Paul didn't think he had anything to say that would make Dean feel better, though he wished he did. "When did you move?"

        "First few days of January. But a few things happened first. For starters, Bridget came to say goodbye."

*****

        Dean stood in the front doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. "Hi."

        "Hi," Bridget said. They were both a bit sullen at this moment. "You're really moving?"

        "Yeah. My dad got a job in Colorado."

        "Oh. Well, good luck." Bridget looked down at the small porch, kicking a crack in the cement. "I'm really sorry for what Billy did to you. I don't know why he did it, and I'm really mad at him for hurting you like that. I don't think I'm going to talk to him anymore."

        "That's better, Bridge. Really. Billy's dangerous. I wasn't sure about that before, but I'm sure now. Here." Dean went into his pocket and pulled out a St. Benedict medal. "I want you to wear this, okay? It's a St. Benedict medal. Don't ever take it off."

        She put it over her hand and looked at it. "Silver. Pretty. Why is it important?"

        "It will protect you against evil, specifically demons." Dean cleared his throat. "You'll need it if you ever go around Billy again."

        After putting the necklace on over her head, Bridget also cleared her throat, trying to decide how to ask him about the rumors. "You bring up demons... Billy said that you told him that you believe in demons. That you and your dad know how to fight them. Is that true?"

        Dean wanted to believe that Bridget wouldn't turn on him. He didn't know who he could trust anymore, but he took a chance on her anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, it's true." He paused to see if she would respond. When Bridget said nothing, he asked, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

        "No," she said with a shake of her head. "I believe you."

        "And why is that?"

        "Because of the things that happen while Billy and I are alone. He's got something... something around him. I don't know what it is, but it creeps me out." Bridget shuddered. "I lose all control when I'm with him. It scares me sometimes."

        "I'd be the first one to encourage you never to hang out with him again." For some reason, that made them both laugh.

        "Well, I better go home before my dad figures out where I am. Thank you for the necklace, Dean."

        "Wait." Dean went into the house and came back out with his footlocker. "Would you keep this for me? I don't want to lug it out to Colorado, and... well, if you have it, it'll give us a reason to never lose touch." He grinned. "I'll come back and get it someday. Whadda ya say?"

        Bridget was tearing up. "Yes, I'll keep it. There's plenty of room under my bed."

        "Unless you're going to hide a boyfriend under there."

        She began to laugh, wiping at her eyes. "With the dad I have, that's a valid point."

        After he'd put the footlocker in her trunk, Bridget turned to him and kissed his cheek. Then she burst into tears. "I'm gonna miss you, Dean."

        "I'll miss you too, Bridge. You be strong." They shared a long, heartfelt hug before she turned to go.

        They both spotted her father's car coming down the street.

        She sighed, long and deep. "You wanna know the biggest reason I believe you about the monsters?"

        "Why?"

        As she'd done many times before, Bridget readied herself to deal with her father's rage. "Because I live with two of them."

*****

        "Did her dad do anything to her?" asked Paul. His eyes shined with unshed tears in reaction to the emotions he'd gleaned off Dean while he told the story of the last time he saw Bridget.

        First Dean smirked, then he laughed at the memory. "He didn't have a chance. The asshole started yelling at her for being with me after he'd told her not to, and my dad heard and came outside. He wound up punching Mr. Bishop out."

        Paul couldn't help but laugh too. "And after he scolded you for doing it."

        "That's why it's so funny."

        "It's not like the guy didn't deserve it."

        "And we were moving anyway, so why not burn a few last bridges?"

        They shared a good laugh. "The St. Benedict medal was a great idea. I hope she kept it on." Paul knew his next question was an unpleasant one, but he had to ask it. "Did Billy come to say goodbye?"

        A bitter half-smile crossed Dean's face. "Yes. Unfortunately for us, he did."

        At that moment, there came a wrap at the door. "Paul, it's us!" Evie called.

        Paul went to answer it. Dean mumbled to himself, "Great, just in time for me to tell half the story over again."

*****

        Dean thought he could carefully edit the story so not even Paul would find out about the more embarrassing parts, but apparently, having a little brother made that impossible.

        "Billy only got worse over the summer of 1995. There wasn't much I could do about it because I was gone for the summer. Our dad sent us away to Torrance to train with a Japanese family of hunters."

        A mischievous grin spread across Sam's face, and he said what he was thinking before he realized what a bad idea it was. "Oh, because Dad wasn't happy that you and all your friends got chlamydia," he said, and snickered like a champion little brother.

        Wincing, Dean put his hand over his face. Paul gaped, Alva raised an eyebrow, and Evie simply snorted out a derisive laugh. "Thank you, Sammy," Dean said with a very unamused glare.

        Sam looked at everyone's reactions and cringed himself. "Ooh... I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

        "Sam wet the bed 'til he was nine," said Dean, grinning with a vengeful look in his eye.

        "I did not!"

        "Okay, ten."

        Clearing his throat, Alva slapped his hand down on the arm of the chair. The sound brought all attention to him. "Can we just get on with the story?"

        Dean gave his brother one last exasperated look before going on with the tale.

        "...And that brings us back to the night Billy paid us a visit," Dean finished. It was nearly eight in the evening now.

        He'd left out any details that would reveal the true nature of his relationship with Billy. Certain parts, though, could be skillfully edited and were still included, like the way he and Billy continued to share Bridget. Dean noticed that every time he brought that up, Evie made a disgusted face and shifted in discomfort. He refused to be ashamed of that; it was his life to lead, not hers.

        "I still don't understand what he was trying to accomplish with that," Sam remarked.

        "It was his last chance to give me the big 'hidey ho fuck you'." Dean looked around, not sure if they'd gotten it. "Just to let me know that he knew I was leaving and couldn't resist taking one last shot."

*****

        The night that Billy came, John was away in Colorado, taking some of their things to their new apartment. He and the Tripps already had a case laid out, one that they estimated would take at least three months to finish. An apartment made more sense than a motel, although it was a "pay by the month" apartment building.

        In charge of his little brother for the whole weekend, Dean made them spaghetti with pre-made frozen meatballs that he could just drop in the sauce to warm up; Sammy did the garlic bread. Occasionally, his mind wandered to Billy. It was their last weekend in the house. Dean felt like there should be something said between them before he left Woodsboro, but knew it would not be a pleasant conversation. It would just be a fight that would go nowhere and accomplish nothing. He would tell Billy how much he'd hurt him with his lies, and again express concern over the supernatural forces surrounding him, and Billy would say that he had to do it to keep his demons, and once again threaten to tell John about his bisexual son if Dean did anything to take them away from him.

        Any effort would be pointless. Still, Dean wished he could do _something_ not to leave it like this.

        Sam was in his room reading comic books while Dean loaded the dishwasher for the last time. That was when he heard the noise in the hall.

        It was a scraping sound, like the edge of an object running along the wall. Taking a peek around the corner, Dean saw no one. "Sammy?"

        "Yeah?" Sam called.

        "Were you just in the hall?"

        "No."

        Dean went down the hall to his room. The window was open, curtains blowing in the wind.

        That wasn't the way he'd left it.

        "Sammy, come 'ere!" He went across the hall to Sam's room.

        Sam was just getting up off his bed, where he'd been lying on his stomach, reading. "What?"

        "There's somebody in the house. Come with me."

        "Who's in the house?" Understandably confused, Sam tried to peek out his door, but Dean held him close to him.

        "Stay close to me. Head for the living room."

        The guns were in the living room.

        As they stepped into the hallway, Dean saw a white blur coming at them from his bedroom. Billy must've been hiding in his room somewhere. Pulling Sam back, he moved to one side just in time to avoid the long hunting knife in Billy's hand. The blade grazed off the wall. Dean put Sam behind him, swept his leg at Billy's ankles, and roundhoused Billy off his feet.

        "Go, go!" he yelled, pushing Sam before him. Sam jumped over Billy and ran for the living room. Dean took a moment to look down and realized with disgust that Billy was wearing a white sheet over his head, on which he'd drawn a ghost face - two big black eyes and a wailing black mouth. Billy's brown eyes peeked out from two small holes he'd cut in the sheet. Shocked and angry that Billy would even try something like this, Dean first kicked the knife out of his hand, then kicked him in the side.

        Billy yelled in pain, doubled over. When Dean went to kick him again, Billy caught his foot and tried to push him over. Dean was still clutching one of the doorjambs, trying to keep himself upright, when Sam came into the hall with a shotgun.

        "Hey!" he called, and pumped it, ready to shoot.

        Billy looked at him. He seemed to think it over for a moment, then released Dean's foot, putting up his hands. Dean whipped the sheet off his head.

        "Billy, what the fuck are you doing?!" he hollered. Dean went over and took the gun from Sam, taking over.

        Panting, Billy smiled mischievously. It only made Dean want to pull the trigger. "I'm just playing, Dean. I wasn't gonna hurt anybody."

        "Do you think I'm stupid?! We're not on good terms at all, and you come in here with a knife, dressed as a ghost?"

        Keeping his hands visible, Billy got up, using every sultry look on Dean that he could. Maybe in the past, those innocent, unassuming, and sexy looks might've worked, but not now. "I just had to come and say goodbye, Dean. You're moving, aren't you?"

        "Yeah. Thank God. I can't wait to get away from a town that has insane assholes like you in it. I mean, sure, people might fuck me over and betray my trust in my new home, but at least I can hope they won't be batshit crazy too." He kept the gun trained on Billy's chest, aimed for his heart.

        "You know why I had to do it."

        "Why did you even bother trying to apologize?" Dean gestured with the gun toward the foyer beyond the hall. Billy slowly and carefully moved where Dean wanted him to, hands still plainly visible. "If you ever come near my family again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

        "You don't mean that."

        "You can bet I goddamn well do. Open the fucking door."

        Billy did. Dean handed the gun back to Sam, who trained it right on Billy again. "Get out of my house and never come back."

        Stepping outside, Billy grinned one last time. "Don't I at least get my knife back?"

        Dean punched him in the face so hard that it was obvious Billy would be left with at least a black eye and probably a bruised ego. He slammed the front door, leaving Billy flailing in the grass.

        For the first time since they'd moved into that house, Dean locked his bedroom window.


	14. The Omen

**Chapter 14: The Omen**

 **Chapters:** 14 of 15 (3,643 words this part)

  
        "I never saw Billy alive again," Dean said. His demeanor had grown more subdued, almost depressed, the closer he got to the end of the story. "We moved that Monday and I've never been back to Woodsboro since."

        "How long was it before the other murders?" Alva asked.

        "Almost a year. I kept in touch with Bridget to make sure she was still steering clear of Billy, and as far as I know, she was. About a month after we moved, Casey Becker walked in on Billy and Stu... um, they were... she said they were engaged in oral sex." Dean's eyes darted from person to person; he didn't like having to tell the truth on any part of the same sex activities, but what he was about to say next wouldn't make much sense without this detail.

        Evie's eyebrows went up. "Wow. So Billy found that partner he'd been looking for."

        "Right. Stu was always really concerned with keeping Billy happy, and... well, as you can see, he'd do just about anything to accomplish that. Casey told the whole school. I think that's why she and her new boyfriend became Billy and Stu's next victims," Dean explained. "The first murders took place on December 16th, 1996. I was seventeen by then. As soon as I heard Casey Becker and Steven Orth were killed, I knew Billy did it. They were both violently gutted and Casey was hung from a tree. It reminded me of Billy's drawing of the girl against the tree with her middle torn out. And the killer wore a Halloween costume... of a ghost.

        "I figured Stu must be helping him. It's easier to overcome multiple people like that if you have help. It either had to be Stu or Billy's demons," Dean said.

        "Perhaps this Alistair came back," Alva threw in.

        "It's always possible. Stu definitely was involved, but I had no way to prove it at that time. As soon as I saw the news reports, I tried to call Tatum; her brother is a police officer. But she wouldn't talk to me. I worried over what to do that whole day. I had to do something, you know? But the next night, someone tried to kill Sidney Prescott. Billy was caught at her house and they took him in, suspecting he was the killer. I thought it was over."

        Sam cut in with, "That's when our dad heard that Neil Prescott was missing. The police started to think that he might be the murderer, but Dad knew that couldn't be true. He knew Neil just wasn't that type of man."

        "My dad and I both thought about heading back to Woodsboro, just to see what we could do. But at that time, I really thought they had their killer in custody and Mr. Prescott would turn up somewhere. That's when Billy was released," Dean revealed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Casey had been called on the phone and taunted by her killer before they murdered her. Billy's cellular phone bill was clean of any calls to her home, so the police let him walk out. My dad was really distracted by his current case and just couldn't decide if there was anything he could do to help Neil, especially with the cops already deep in it. But I wasn't waffling on the issue at all. The morning I heard Billy had been released, I got in my car and took off for Woodsboro."

        "I was ready to skip school and go right along with him," Sam said a little guiltily. "For me, it was more about not wanting to be left behind. Practically begged Dean to take me with him."

        "Did you have an intuition about what was happening?" Evie asked.

        Shaking his head, Sam said, "Not really. If Dean thought it was Billy doing these killings, then I believed him. I was more worried that..." He looked at Dean. "...that I wouldn't see my brother alive again."

        Now Dean looked guilty, his eyes full of sadness.

        "I mean, he was going into this situation where people were being killed. I wasn't thinking that I was only thirteen at the time myself; I only wanted to help."

        Evie patted his back.

        Dean took up the story again. "I told Sammy to stay home. I'm not sure what I had planned to do once I got there, but I did take two of my guns. I suppose if I'd taken a plane, I could have gotten there faster, but... uh, I'm afraid to fly."

        Surprised, Paul said, "Really?"

        Dean nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. I didn't have any money for a ticket anyway. The drive was a good 20 hours, but I hoped I could make it before anyone else died. The night of the 18th, I stopped at a motel to sleep for just a few hours. I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, and I almost went off the road. I wish I could have just kept on. I don't think I would have made it in time anyway." Head down, he looked sadder than ever.

        "When Dad got home from working on his case, he asked where Dean was and I told him. I actually hoped he would go after him so he could keep him safe," Sam admitted. "He was behind by about eight hours, but Dad went after him. I insisted on coming too."

        "Kinda good that you two did." Dean's voice cracked. He took a moment to compose himself. "Around six in the morning on the 19th, I had a dream. Billy was in Hell. There were demons all around him. He had a hunting knife in his hand; it was smeared with blood. The demons imprisoned him in a cage made of cinderblocks. The blocks were on fire. Billy started to try to chip his way out, and the fire was burning him. But he kept slashing at those flaming bricks and screaming. He was screaming in fury. The demons were keeping him there until they needed him; I couldn't tell you how I knew that. I just did.

        "One demon stood out. He looked at me with these piercing silver eyes and did this." Dean curled his finger in a "come here" motion. "He said, 'Aw, sleepyhead. People died on your watch tonight. Didn't they?' And then I could hear Billy screaming for me. Just kept screaming, 'Dean, Dean! That bitch killed me! Sidney shot me in the head!' I woke up with the smell of burning brimstone in my nostrils. I woke up, and I knew."

        "Do you think the demon was Alistair?" questioned Alva.

        Dean just nodded. "I turned on the news. The news confirmed what I already knew. More people dead. Several stabbed and shot. And Billy and Stu, dead. Before Sidney killed them in self-defense, they confessed to the murder of Maureen Prescott the year before. I knew. I _knew_. But I let myself be deluded into not believing what should have been obvious to me."

        "Dean..." Sam began. His brother always went back to blaming himself every time he told this story. Sam wanted it to stop, for Dean to stop feeling guilty.

        "Let me finish," Dean snapped. "Alright?"

        "Okay, finish."

        Swallowing hard, Dean tried to go on. "The newscaster named every person who had been killed. Casey Becker. Steven Orth. Arthur Himbry. Kenny Jones. Tatum Riley. And the year before, Maureen Prescott. Those names will be with me forever, you know?"

        Everyone nodded in sympathy, even Evie.

        "I still don't get why they had to kill Tatum. I guess just because she was there," lamented Sam. Evie patted his back again.

        Paul brought up something he'd been wondering ever since Dean had talked about Billy's murder game. "What about Bridget?"

        That was one thing Dean could smile about. "She didn't go to the party where the last of the victims were killed. I spoke to her on the phone the day after, and she said she'd seen Billy in a video store the day of the party. He asked her to come. It was the first time they'd talked in a really long time, and he asked her to come to the party. If Bridget had gone, they might've killed her too."

        Paul sighed with relief. Bridget had been Dean's friend, and she was one less dead body over which he could feel guilty.

        Licking his lips nervously, Dean attempted to finish the story. "Because I'd stopped to sleep, my dad caught up with me, but not before..." His voice broke with threatening tears. Dean struggled to hold them back. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I can't do this with you here." He looked at Evie, then Alva.

        They shifted awkwardly, unsure what Dean wanted them to do. "Do you... want us to leave?"

        "Paul can fill in the rest for you. If you'll just go in his bedroom and wait... there isn't much left to tell."

        Neither was sure if it was more awkward to wait in the bedroom or be present while Dean Winchester cried. They simply nodded and filed out of the room.

        While Alva took a seat in the armchair near Paul's bed, Evie closed the door. It came open again, just a little. "The latch is broken," she remarked. Spying Dean's bag on the floor next to the bed, Evie nosily leaned over and peeked inside. All she could see was some clothes and... Evie curiously picked up a leather cuff with studs and jewels on it, one of them in the shape of a heart. "What the heck do you think this is?"

        Dean barreled ahead, to just get this horrible story done. "When I realized that it was all over and... and I hadn't made it to Woodsboro in time to stop it, I just couldn't live with it at all. If I hadn't gotten sleepy and stopped for the night, maybe I could have..." He swallowed down the lump in his throat. It didn't help.

        It was Paul reaching out and touching Dean through the empathic link that finally let down the gates to his emotions; the touch attempted to be soothing. The fact that anyone could still love him after how he'd failed made Dean burst into tears. "I didn't know most of them that well. And I never even met Kenny Jones. But I still felt so guilty. If I'd only told someone what I knew about Billy, maybe his parents would have gotten him some help. I just watched him pretend to choke Bridget and listened to him rage about how much he wanted to kill Mrs. Prescott, and I told no one!"

        Evie had taken a seat on the end of Paul's bed, but now she jumped up and went to the door to listen. Because the door wouldn't stay latched, and Dean was sobbing rather loudly, she could hear everything well enough to alarm her.

        "Evie, don't eavesdrop," Alva scolded. "We should respect his privacy."

        "How do we even know that's Dean crying? It could be Paul," she said, and began listening at the door.

        Alva didn't fully trust Dean yet either, but he doubted that was Paul sobbing out there.

        Sam came over and sat on the other side of his brother. "Dean, you were just a kid. You've gotta stop blaming yourself."

        "How can I not feel responsible with all I knew? I mean, come on, Sammy!"

        "You've beat yourself up enough over this. Dean, you tried to _kill_ yourself. It's time to stop feeling guilty."

*****

        Dean's body went numb, sitting on the end of the motel bed with the newscaster in the red blazer running down the names of the dead once again.

        He heard the words from his nightmare in his head over and over.

         _Aw, sleepyhead. People died on your watch tonight. Didn't they?_

 _Dean! That bitch killed me! Sidney shot me in the head!_

        Dean didn't know how much time went by before he was able to feel anything again. Tatum was the hardest one to take. He had tried to warn her.

         _Should've tried harder_ , a voice of self-doubt said in his mind.

         _Maybe if you'd told someone, you could have saved Billy too,_ said another.

        Unable to hold it in anymore, Dean began to cry, almost too hard to breathe. For a while, he laid across the end of the bed just sobbing to himself. Those voices wouldn't shut up. They just wouldn't stop.

         _Aw, sleepyhead. People died on your watch tonight. Didn't they?_

 _Maybe if you'd told someone, you could have saved Billy too._

 _You don't deserve to live,_ one last voice said.

        Still sobbing and stumbling around the room, Dean scrawled out a note.

         _I'm sorry, I failed,_ it said. _I love you Dad. I love you Sammy. Please don't hate me for what I've done. Dean._

        Then he wrapped his belt around his neck, heading for the bathroom.

        Someone began to knock loudly at the door. "Dean? Dean, let me in!" John's voice demanded. "I know what happened, son. I heard it on the radio. Let me in. It's not your fault. Dean?"

        Wide-eyed, Dean tried to move faster. Dad couldn't be allowed to stop him. He didn't deserve to live. All his guns were out in the trunk. This was the only way he could get it done.

        "Dean, the people at the front desk told me you were in there. Open the door, son." And when there was no answer... "Dean, open the door!"

        "Dean, _please_ open the door!" Sam's voice pleaded, and he banged on the door too.

        God, _no_ , Sammy was out there too. Dean didn't want Sammy to see this, but... what other choice did he have? He hooked the belt around the shower curtain rod, twisting it so it formed a figure eight, and, closing his eyes tight, Dean relaxed his legs and fell off the edge of the bathtub.

        The lock rattled as John worked feverishly to pick it open. His son hung for four tense, strangling seconds before the tension rod gave under his weight. Dean and the rod clattered to the floor.

        When John and Sam rushed into the motel room, the first thing they heard was Dean coughing violently on the bathroom floor. John knew exactly what his son had tried to do when he saw the belt still wrapped around his neck and the red welt forming there. "Oh, _Dean_ ," he said, and hugged him to his chest.

        "They're dead," Dean rasped out, crying again. "My fault."

        "Don't talk," commanded John. He began to rock his son like he used to do when Dean was a baby. "It's not your fault. Do you hear me? You didn't kill anybody. Those boys in Woodsboro did. You tried to stop it, but nobody could stop it, alright? You don't deserve to die over this."

        "Dad, I knew stuff," Dean sobbed in a tiny, barely audible voice. "Knew stuff and didn't tell you."

        "Shhhh. It's not your fault. It's just something that happened."

        Sam knelt on the floor, starting to cry too. "Please don't kill yourself, Dean. I know you feel bad, but you can't leave us like this."

        "Sammy..." Dean grabbed his brother with one arm and they hugged, sobbing together.

        John held his sons and thanked whoever was up there listening that the curtain rod had given way.

*****

        Now, the brothers were hugging and crying again. Paul was on the verge himself, watching and listening to them. He rubbed Dean's back.

        At first, Dean had tried to push Sam away when he hugged him, but Sam just wouldn't stop. Dean gave up after his second try to deflect his brother's love, love he didn't feel he deserved right now, and allowed Sammy to comfort him.

        "Nobody blames you, Dean. No one but you," Sam said.

        Dean had handfuls of Sam's jacket, now clutching at him like a lifeline. "But I knew things I didn't tell anyone. Sometimes I wish that curtain rod hadn't given way."

        Evie looked back at Alva. There were tears in her eyes. Something in what Dean had said had touched her in a place few could reach, few could understand. Without a word, she opened the door and went into the living room.

        Everyone was surprised to see her there, but no one more than Dean. She instantly went right to him and knelt in front of him. "Dean, listen to me."

        Sniffling, he said, "What are you doing here?"

        "You have to forgive yourself for what happened," Evie told him. "You were only sixteen. Sometimes, we're confronted with things we don't know how to deal with and we just become so scared that we don't know what to do. So we do nothing, hoping that an answer will come or someone else will make the decision for us. This is never truer than when you're a kid. Even an adult would have been lost for knowing what to do to help Billy Loomis. If one of my childhood friends had exhibited that kind of behavior in front of me... I probably would have tried to rationalize it too. It's not so weird. He's just going through a phase. I hope this just goes away. Even if someone had gotten him into therapy, it might not have done any good. The kid was messed up, Dean. I know you wish you could have saved him, but ultimately only he could have done that. More supportive parents might've helped, too."

        "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked.

        She tried to smile a little to show that her intentions were sincere. "Because no matter how much we fight, you're still a human being. I need to try to remember that. And... because we all have gotten into some situation where we didn't know what to do and thought in hindsight that maybe we could have made a different decision or done more. I'm not immune to that." Evie swallowed the lump in her throat. "When I was fourteen, I got into a bad situation and I didn't know what to do. My parents made my decision for me. Sometimes I still feel like I murdered someone. But we didn't murder anyone, Dean."

        " _Murdered_ someone?"

        "I had an abortion. I've been working on forgiving myself for years. Some days, I think I've just about done it." Two tears rolled silently down her face. "But it's a daily struggle."

        For the first time, Dean reached out and patted her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "I guess it's something I need to work on too."

        "Finally, I make some headway through that thick skull of yours," Evie joked. She sniffled and wiped her eyes.

        Dean chuckled. "We're not going to start being nice to each other all the time now, are we? 'Cause I kinda like this petty bickering thing we've got going."

        With a wicked grin, she replied, "Of course we'll still fight. Wouldn't want to disappoint you."

        "Yeah you would," he said, and winked.

*****

        Later that night, Dean found himself sitting on Paul's couch staring at the digital display on his cell phone at who was calling him.

        Sam looked at his brother. It turned into a glare. "Are you going to answer that?"

        "I thought maybe I slipped into the twilight zone," Dean replied, and flipped the phone open. He looked right at Sam when he said, "Well, well, well. Hey _Bridget_ , how you doin', sweetheart?"

        Sam's mouth fell open.

        "My God, Dean! I finally found you!" she cried with relief and enthusiasm. "I started calling every Dean Winchester in the book today until I remembered that you sometimes use an alias just for fun."

        "Sure, that's right. Just for fun." He opened his mouth as if to say _Uh oh, I just fibbed!_ , mugging for Sam.

        "How are you doing, baby?"

        They chatted about their lives for fifteen or so minutes before Bridget got to her real reason for calling. "Really, the Homicide division of the Los Angeles police? I never figured you for a five-oh, Bridge."

        Sam mouthed, _"Ouch!"_ and then pantomimed that he was laughing hysterically and pointing at Dean. "Cop magnet," he whispered.

        "It just kinda happened, I guess," she snickered, then said, "There is a serious reason that I called you, Dean. It involves _your_ line of work."

        "What are you talking about? I joined the circus."

        They shared a good chuckle before she continued. "Seriously, you're still hunting and all that, aren't you?"

        "Yeah. Did something weird happen in Los Angeles?"

        Bridget laughed again. "Would you stop? It's about your footlocker."

        "Wow, I had nearly forgotten that you even had that thing." The footlocker wasn't something he thought of very often, but after the story he'd told that day, it was already on Dean's mind. "What about it?"

        "I still have it. I couldn't bear to just throw it out or something; it wouldn't be fair to you. I've never opened it, but I figure you've got some important things in there."

        "Yeah, yeah, I do. Thanks for hanging onto it all these years."

        "No problem. It's been sitting in my den since I got this place. Anyway, I went in there this morning and... I think this has to do with Billy, Dean," Bridget said, her voice growing serious.

        He should have been surprised, but somehow, this was to be expected. "What is it?"

        "There was something written across the top of the footlocker. And a handprint. It looks like chalk, but it has a, a glow to it, and it won't wash off. It's almost like it's been branded into the footlocker." Bridget paused to consider how crazy this sounded, but she knew Dean would understand. "I took a picture with my phone."

        "Send it to me now," Dean said.

        Yes, it was Billy. The message he'd written this time was different, but again, not unexpected.

        Dean thought of him in that cinderblock prison, and the blocks breaking open in a shower of flames and brick.

         _Dean, they finally let me out._

  
 **Notes:** The leather cuff that Evie takes out of Dean's bag is a reference to another story of mine, "Unspoken." It's a cockring that Dean put on Paul. XD I couldn't resist.


	15. Stir of Echoes

**Chapter 15: Stir of Echoes**

 **Chapters:** 15 of 15 (462 words this part)

  
        Paul looked up quizzically when Dean came in and took a seat on his bed. "Can I help you?"

        With an amused snort, Dean wrote something else on the small pad of paper in his hand, and then smiled at him. "Sam kicked me out of bed. Says the air mattress isn't big enough for the both of us. And that you wouldn't mind if I shared your bed with you another night."

        "Hmm... smart guy, your brother." They grinned at each other like two people sitting on a lovely secret. "Whatcha writin' there?"

        "I'm drawing you dirty pictures."

        Paul peeked over his shoulder. "You are not."

        "I'm making a list of all the things we have yet to figure out. These other Pauls, how we capture the Mothman, all that."

        "I highly doubt they're all named Paul." He took a seat on the bed next to Dean. "Are you okay?"

        "Yeah. Pretty much." Dean put his pad on the bedside table.

        "You wanna snuggle?" Paul asked, mischief in his voice.

        He smiled gently at that thought. "Sounds good."

        Shirtless under the sheets and comforter, they laid face to face in Paul's bed and kissed for a while, arms about each other loosely. "Things weren't all bad with Billy, if you loved him," Paul said suddenly, knowing it was still on Dean's mind.

        "No, it wasn't all bad. Sometimes, it was really nice." Dean rubbed his nose against Paul's.

        "What kind of stuff do you remember about him? The good stuff?"

        "Well..." He gave it a little thought. "He always smelled good, like you. And he loved grapes, and cherry snowcones. Even when it was nippy outside, Billy wanted his mom to break out the snowcone machine and make him one. It looked like Snoopy."

        Paul laughed. "I remember those things."

        Dean chuckled too. "The snowcones would turn his tongue bright red. We'd stand there with our tongues out, going, 'Ahhhhh.' My favorite flavor turned mine purple. Then we'd go down to the store and try to get the girl running the express lane to page Mike Hunt."

        Laughing again, Paul cuddled up to him and kissed his mouth. "You're so bad."

        "Are you, um, like totally grossed out by the fact that I've had chlamydia?" Dean asked, sheepish over the whole subject.

        Paul shook his head. "No. It's in the past, and I'm sure you've been treated."

        "Doctor cleared it right up," he replied, and raised his hand. "Scout's honor."

        "Good. Well..." Now it was Paul's turn to be a little sheepish. "There's no subtle way to go from that subject to this one, so I'll just say it... I owe you a blowjob," he whispered. "You in the mood for it?"

        "Uh huh."

        "Good, 'cause I'm really in the mood to give it. You better put the comforter over your head so Sam doesn't hear you."

        Lowering one eyebrow at him, Dean joked, "You really think you're that good?"

        "Hey, I know I didn't finish that one time, but you remember how amazing those first few minutes were," Paul said with a grin.

        "Oh, yes... now I remember."

        Paul began to kiss his way down Dean's chest. Dean, with an aroused grunt, threw the comforter over his head.

 **No One Mourns the Wicked** is (C) 2009 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
 **Miracles** is (C) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
 **Supernatural** is (C) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland,  & Warner Brothers/The CW Television  
 **Scream** is (C) 1996 Dimension Films


End file.
